Breathe Me
by ScintillatingTart
Summary: Things are infinitely more complex than can be imagined. (AU, Harry/Ruth, Ruth/OMC, rated M for shenanigans)
1. Chapter 1

Blah blah blah, don't own Spooks, don't make any money off my fanfic, don't have any monies in the bank, so please don't sue, etc., etc., etc. "Firsts" seems to have been sort of well-received, so here's another fic. Who knows, my brain doesn't make any sense anyway. Story is clearly AU, but runs in a parallel timeline to canonical events. Rated M for "mounds of melons and mundane making of love" because, again, my brain makes no sense and it made me giggle.

Breathe Me  
by Scintillating Tart  
August 2014 – October 2014

* * *

One:  
The Beginning of the End

Ruth came home early and hung her jacket up on her hook. She noticed the quiet about the house first; it was never this quiet, not with an eleven year old and an eight year old running around. Then she noticed the girls' jackets were gone from their hooks, and someone else's suit jacket was hanging up. Oh dear, that meant Gareth had brought his lover round again.

She sighed. Some things never changed. Her husband was one of those things. They'd gotten married straight out of Oxford, a good idea at the time, as they got on well and he'd needed a beard to get quite comfortable in the trading world. Gay men in finance didn't tend to go over well. And, well, he'd wanted children, and she was his best friend and – yes. They'd been married and had Rosaleigh in short order. Then his parading a string of lovers through the house had begun, and she'd moved into the guest room. Despite all this, they were a strange sort of normal and happy, maybe.

She'd long since stopped being jealous of his lovers and had even gone so far as to sleep with someone she'd met in a bar. Hence Margaret. She winced and put up her blinders again, pretending to stop feeling for a while. It had been a long day, and the sound of the bed in the master bedroom creaking and groaning through the floorboards was enough to set her teeth on edge.

Ruth went into the kitchen and got a bottle of wine out of the fridge where she'd put it to chill before work. GCHQ wasn't exactly the most impressive job she could've gotten, but they were flexible and being in Cheltenham was good for the girls – they were close to Ruth's mother, that way. In fact, that's probably where they were. That's where Gareth usually dropped them off when he was going to have bed-breaking sex.

She poured herself a very generous glass of wine and drained it without so much as a breath between gulps. When the alcohol hit her, she felt pleasantly woozy and not anymore upset than she'd been when she'd realized that her husband was upstairs fucking again. She exhaled a little and tried to think of a way to tell him that she wanted out.

Nine years before, she'd thought about leaving him. She'd gone to the pub after work with her colleagues from her section, since he'd been off to take Rose to see his parents in Bath for the weekend. It had been nice – the drinks had flowed freely and while they were getting smashed on shots and hard liquor, she'd hung back at the bar with a glass of white burgundy. A handsome man had chatted her up and Ruth had laughed and played the game to its inevitable conclusion; she was only a lonely woman after all. For all of the closeness she and Gareth shared, she was lonely. She missed things like the companionship of a man, the touch of his skin, the way his look spoke volumes about what he wanted from her…

James Henry had been the one to break those walls and take her for a ride without mercy. Even nine years later, she trotted out her memories of him to use as fantasy fodder. He was passionate, heated, every word he'd spoken had been laced with unspoken urges and desires that she wondered if she could fulfill. Two nights of torrid, steamy sex, and then he'd vanished from her life as quickly as he'd come into it.

They'd been careful, but she'd still managed to get pregnant. It wasn't the worst thing that had happened, but nothing had been the same since that weekend. Gareth still couldn't look her in the eyes and see her as a creature with passions equal to or maybe even greater than his own; which was ironic, considering the shouts from upstairs. She briefly considered knocking the ceiling with a broom handle, but that was slightly more passive aggressive than just growing a pair and asking him for a divorce.

She finished off the bottle of wine without even realizing it, and groaned as her head began to swim. Of course, what would she do if she left him, anyway? He held the purse strings – the house was his, the cars were his, she was just a footnote with her tiny income from GCHQ. She'd been stupid enough to go looking for James Henry once before, on one of her rather depressed, maudlin days, and had found out he had died not long after their affair. So she had no one even to turn to, should she just up and leave here. Her mother already thought she was ridiculous for having married Gareth in the first place, knowing full well that he was homosexual. Telling her about their fumbling sexual relations at the beginning of their marriage would only cement the ridiculousness.

Putting up with what was going on upstairs was an altogether different matter. The bed finally stopped creaking and the noise died down. Ruth was grateful for small favors, because her head was beginning to ache. Maybe another bottle of wine to dull the pain.

Midway through the third bottle, she realized she was crying – and she was so drunk she couldn't stand up if she tried. That was so attractive, she chided herself.

A young man – very young, couldn't have been more than twenty – came into the kitchen in his green trunks and nothing else. He barely spared her a glance as he went to the fridge to get a beer.

"He blows hot and cold," Ruth said quietly. "When he decides he doesn't need you anymore, you'll hate yourself for ever loving him."

The man gave her a piteous look and said, "Good thing it's just sex, then." He went back upstairs.

Ruth managed to pull herself together a bit by the time Gareth came downstairs, piss and vinegar dripping from his veins as he said, "Oh, you're home early. For once."

She smiled a little and went back to slicing chicken pieces for dinner. "Yeah, you might let me know you took the girls to mum's next time," she said in a falsely cheerful tone. He snorted and made a non-committal noise. Suddenly, she rounded on him, knife in hand. "Don't dismiss me like that," she hissed. His eyes widened at the knife in mid-air, and she lowered it back to the counter. "Don't," she added. "Okay? Just don't pretend that you're the only one with feelings in this relationship."

"We don't have a relationship," Gareth said. "We have an arrangement."

She took a deep breath, but the wine fueled her on. "I want a divorce," she said quietly.

"I don't really care what you want anymore, Ruth," Gareth snapped. "Don't you understand that? Don't you wonder why I can't stand to be in the same room with you? Because you let someone else fuck you – you agreed it would be me – that children would be OURS –"

"You didn't touch me," she hissed. "Not after Rose. What am I meant to do, Gareth? Wait my whole life for you to decide you can pretend I'm a boy so you can shag me from behind – which really hurt, by the way, because you don't even know that you have to wind a woman up before you can stick your dick in!" She felt like she was watching herself from outside her body; she never spoke this way to anyone, let alone her husband.

He stared at her for a long moment, then snapped. He backhanded her and she felt blood as she bit her tongue. "Don't you ever –"

She didn't back down. For once in her life, she was brave, and she stared him down. "I want a divorce," she repeated. "And I want primary custody of Rose and Daisy. You can have them on school breaks and holidays and weekends, but I want primary custody. I don't want them coming home to what I came home to today."

His face was flushed scarlet, almost purple, and he was clearly furious from the way his teeth were gnashed together. "I want the house and the Rolls," he snapped.

"I'll keep the BMW," she said quietly.

"I'll call the solicitor in the morning," he grunted.

She nodded and said, "And before you say anything else about my… indiscretion… it was two nights a long time ago. There hasn't been anyone else. So if you think to use infidelity against me in court, I have a parade of gay men who would gladly come out and accuse you of the same."

Gareth snorted a laugh. "You know, that boyfriend of yours came round and asked for you. Got very quiet when I told him you were married."

She paused, taking that in for just a moment before she whispered, "You bastard. You unimaginable bastard."

"He wasn't even handsome," he snorted. "Not fuckable in the slightest. Were you pissed when you fucked him?"

Not nearly as drunk as she was now, she had to admit silently to herself. Ruth exhaled and said, "I'm making stir-fry for dinner and mum's bringing the girls home in ten minutes. I want your boyfriend gone by the time they get here."

"Not your house, Ruthie," Gareth reminded her caustically.

"No, but the children are my concern," she snapped. "And they don't need to be exposed to this anymore."

Gareth grunted a reply, then said, "You're not getting half of my accounts."

"I don't want them," she said simply. "I just want my salary you've been holding onto." She didn't tell him she'd applied for a secondment to MI-5, that there was a possibility she'd be moving to London and taking the kids with her. It was hard enough to tell him she wanted a divorce. Her jaw hurt where he'd hit her, but she deserved that; she'd known better than to provoke him, but she'd done it anyway.

Ten minutes later, he was leaving, and so was his lover. He passed by Rose and Daisy without even saying hello to them, and he glared at Ruth's mother.

"Who pissed in dad's cereal?" Rose asked as she sat down at the table, slinging her school bag onto it. "He's been mean a lot lately."

"Yeah," Daisy added unhelpfully.

Elizabeth sighed and said, "I should –"

"No, mum, I want you to be here," Ruth said quietly. "The truth is, your dad's very angry with me. I've asked him for a divorce for reasons we aren't going into. Just know this: it is not your fault. And he will love you both just as much – maybe even more – without me there."

Daisy looked up at her mother and frowned. "I don't want you to get divorced –"

"Don't be stupid," Rose said. "All they do is fight. They need to be apart."

Elizabeth frowned at her daughter, and Ruth said, "Girls, don't fight, please."

"This is stupid," Daisy said. "Dad loves you –"

"No," Ruth said with quiet certainty, "no, Daisy, he doesn't. He hasn't for a long time. And I don't love him any longer, either. It's best that we split up now, before you and Rose get hurt by being in the middle, okay?"

Daisy huffed. "Okay," she finally said grudgingly.

"Now, I'm finishing up dinner and you two need to do your homework and then I'll read another chapter of A Wrinkle in Time, okay?" Ruth said.

"Okay," they agreed.

Things were going to be rough for a while, but maybe not so rough as all that. Maybe things would be okay again soon.

END PART ONE


	2. Chapter 2

Two:  
Remembrance Hard to Bear

"_James Henry sounds like a name you'd make up if you had no time to do it properly," Ruth said with a chuckle, sipping her third glass of wine. She was amused by this stranger, handsome, appealing, full of suavity and grace that bespoke a want of intimacy. That he was fawning over her was something new, though. Men never looked at her twice. Probably because she almost always had her wedding rings on. She'd forgotten them this morning, left in the shallow dish on her vanity with her cheap earrings and costume jewelry. It was pretty telling how cheap her marriage felt just from that gesture._

"_Ah, yes, well, my parents named me after my grandfather, so…" He smiled, winking at her. "You still haven't told me your name."_

"_Because it's boring, like me," she replied. "Ruth."_

"_Ruth means 'friend'," he said._

"_Yes, not exactly the most…" She stopped speaking and looked down at her wineglass. She was rubbish at flirting and she was rubbish at being with men at all. She'd had one relationship before Gareth, and it had gotten sexual just about the time he'd decided it was time to go join the Army. She was like sexual plutonium: just radioactive enough not to touch. "But anyway, don't you have someone more interesting to talk to?" she asked gently, trying to spur him on, get him away before she could damage him._

"_I only see one person worthy of my attention, and she's sitting beside me," James commented in such a dry tone it almost registered on the sarcasm scale. "Of course, she's trying to get rid of me – probably because such a beautiful woman is waiting for her lover… or her boyfriend… or her husband…"_

"_None of the above," Ruth murmured. She didn't even feel guilty. It felt nice to be chased. It felt lovely to be wanted, even if it was the drink talking._

"_Does Ruth come with a last name?"_

"_Henry hardly counts as a last name," she shot back from the hip._

"_Patrick Henry was a traitor," he shot back. "So it does just fine for a last name."_

_She tried to think of a plausible excuse for a last name, but blurted out, "Evershed," anyway. She was bloody well rubbish at this, wasn't she? She was meant to throw him off, give him a fake last name so he couldn't track her down or – god, if Gareth ever found out… "Ruth Evershed," she repeated quietly, finishing her glass of wine._

"_Another?" he prompted._

_She contemplated her glass, then him, for a long time. He wasn't what she would normally go for – her shallow, sexy type had to do with muscles and glasses and nerdiness. He was rather different: sturdily built but not fat, a decent height but not overly tall so she felt like a dwarf (like she did with Gareth), and he made that suit of his look like something she definitely wanted to take off piece by piece… and she wondered if he was wearing braces. "Yes, please," she murmured, handing him her glass. She needed all the courage she could get. He had a nice smile, but he wasn't particularly drop-dead sexy. He was a bit plain, like her, and it was all right. Not everyone could be Claudia Schiffer or George Clooney, after all._

_He handed her another glass of wine and their fingers brushed against each other. Ruth's face flushed and James smiled a bit knowingly. "Any plans this evening or is asking you to dinner a bit forward?" he asked._

"_It's a bit presumptuous," she said, a bit breathless from the tingling sensation his touch had generated._

"_But everyone needs to eat," he replied with an impish smile on his lips._

_She watched her colleagues leave in a group, forgetting about her. That happened often. No one ever remembered Ruth, in the end. She was a footnote. She looked at James for a long moment, then murmured, "I'm not hungry." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "For food."_

_To his credit, he didn't act surprised at all at her fumbling forwardness. "I have a hotel room –"_

"_Okay," she murmured. It was just sex; no holds barred, just… just release. It had been so long since she'd had anything but her fingers to tempt her – and he seemed like he would be kind and gentle enough. Maybe he'd even care enough to make sure she came._

"_You're making this entirely too easy," he teased._

"_It's been a while," she admitted quietly. "And I was never very good at this anyway."_

"_This being…?"_

"_Asking for sex."_

"_You're not asking," he replied, leaning in close and breathing against her neck. "I'm offering."_

_She almost whimpered._

* * *

Ruth woke up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat. She didn't know what had woken her, but she was upright and feeling sick to her stomach right off. Something wasn't right. Something was very wrong. She got up and headed downstairs in a hurry when she heard a crash, tinkling glass, and a loud swear of, "GOD'S BALLS!"

Gareth stood in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by a mess of broken bottles and alcohol. He was already drunk, and the look on his face convinced Ruth to stay back. "Do you want me to help?" she asked quietly.

"NO!"

"Be quiet – you're going to wake the girls," she said softly. "Gareth, please…"

"You don't bloody want me anymore, so don't assume I want your fucking help," he hissed angrily. "I did what you wanted – I got the divorce moving. So fuck off back to your ivory tower, princess."

She swallowed hard and went to the pantry to get the broom and dustpan. She tossed them at his feet and said, "What happened to us? We never used to be like this. We were never hateful."

"You slept with that jackarse," he snapped. "That's what happened. And suddenly, I was no good –"

She shook her head and murmured, "That's not true and you know it. We've always been best friends; something changed and you stopped talking to me before that. It happened before I slept with someone else."

He glowered at her, and she felt sorry for him in that moment. She felt sorry that he'd fallen so far from the good, decent man he'd been only a few years before. "You don't know what you're talking about, Ruthie," Gareth growled. "And you're on dangerous ground."

"You're the one standing in the middle of a ring of glass," she pointed out. She didn't mean to sound flippant or sarcastic, but it came out that way, and his look took a turn for the dangerous.

He walked across the glass, hissing when the alcohol hit his cuts only seconds after they were made. She took a step back, then two, till she was backed against the counter and he was right on top of her. He kissed her awkwardly, roughly, and she bit his tongue when it forced her mouth open. That didn't stop him; nothing did.

* * *

_Once they were inside the hotel room and the door was closed behind them (and locked), Ruth began to panic a little. She had no idea what she was doing here, with him. It was all too convenient for her; a little too much like she'd just taken what was available to her and not…_

_He pulled her gently closer and smiled. "Ruth," James said very softly, "I get the feeling you're having second thoughts."_

"_Fifth," she corrected him, her voice strangely high and tight._

_He threaded their fingers together and he just held her hand for a long moment. "You're very beautiful, you know," he said._

"_You don't have to lie to me," she said. "You'll never see me again after tonight; you don't have to lie." She looked up at him, feeling a resolve settle into her belly, fortifying her in a way the wine couldn't have done. "There were plenty of other women in the pub – you could have had your pick. But you chose me because I'm plain and I'm shy and anonymous and I won't go looking for you afterwards and cause trouble. Isn't that how it works?" _

"_Sometimes," he admitted, looking a bit chagrinned. "But not this time." He squeezed her hand and pulled her close, flush against him, so close she could feel his heart beating against her ribcage in a counter-rhythm to her own heartbeat, so close that she could feel his arousal pressed up against her. She didn't dare ask if she'd caused that, because he might make a snide comment, and his lips could be put to so much better use than sarcasm._

_Ruth tentatively leaned in and kissed him, relaxing as he kissed her back. Her arms came up around his neck and shoulders, as he deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling and gliding sensually against one another. She broke the kiss to breathe, gasping as she pressed her forehead against his. "That was… nice," she panted, gently stroking the hair at the nape of his neck._

"_Nice? NICE? I'll show you nice," he growled, kissing her again, cutting off her air supply and plundering her lips and mouth like his life depended on showing her the definition of an epic kiss._

_Clothes flew every which way, neither knowing who took what off of whom, as they were both invested in getting as naked as possible as quickly as possible between hungry, desperate kisses. He laughed when one of his shoes knocked over a lamp, and she giggled when her bra wound up hanging from the light fixture on the ceiling. His boxers and her knickers came off at the same time, offending puddles of fabric on the floor of an anonymous hotel room. His boxers were black and red striped, she noted with some satisfaction – the man had to have some kind of spontaneous side beneath that suit. Her knickers were black with lace, and barely there, as she'd been wearing a pencil skirt that clung a little too tight to her figure. He'd already breathed an approval in her ear about the lace. And the skirt. And her bottom._

_He grabbed her by the ass and lifted her off the floor, earning him a squeak of protest, then a moan when he caressed her bottom, carrying her to the bed and dumping her rather unceremoniously on her back. "Are you on the pill?" James asked. "I've got condoms –"_

"_We can't be too careful," she said softly. "I am, but – a condom would be good, too."_

_He smiled and said, "Then I'll be right back. Just have to fetch one."_

_She watched him walk away, stark naked, and bit her lip, barely holding back a moan as she watched his very nice bum. He was very sturdily built, and even with a touch of a belly on him, she couldn't complain. Partially because his package definitely made up for any lesser imperfections. And she got an eyeful as he came back across the carpet, his erection bobbing with every step._

"_Like what you see?" he asked, chuckling. She blushed and bit her lip, averting her eyes. He gently grabbed her chin and turned her back to face him. "Ruth, you shouldn't be embarrassed about this," James said. "We're both consenting adults, and you have to tell me what you want so I can make you happy. I want this to be good for both of us – it's no fun if the pleasure isn't mutual."_

_She pulled him down partway and met him for a kiss. "I want you," Ruth whispered simply._

_He smiled and joined her on the bed._

* * *

Ruth fled to the bathroom and locked herself in, sinking to the floor and choking back a sob. She couldn't go to the police, couldn't go anywhere, couldn't report this. He would take the girls away from her; she couldn't let that happen. Her legs were weak, everything from her waist down hurt, stung, ached. There was probably blood – she hated blood, bleeding, anything that made her feel less than human.

She managed to get up and draw a bath, throwing in some salts, hoping that it would help. She felt dirty, less than a person. And she couldn't wait for her divorce to be over and done – or for her secondment to come through so she could leave this house that had become her prison.

The water was hot and as she slid into the tub, she bit her lip so hard she drew blood, trying not to scream.

* * *

_He insisted on them being on their sides, facing each other, kissing, touching, delaying the inevitable. She had always thought that men wanted to be dominant, taking the top and ramming away, or coming from behind so they didn't have to try so hard. But James wasn't like her other sexual encounters. He genuinely cared about how she felt, if she was feeling the same pleasure he was. She moaned into his mouth, moving her leg over his hips, trying to draw him closer. She wanted him inside her, was tired of waiting. He'd made her come already, and it was earth-shatteringly good. If he'd made her see stars just by using his fingers, god only knew what would happen when he used his cock._

_He pulled back and rolled the condom down onto his erection, and she moved her hand to help. He groaned deeply when she touched him, his eyes closing for a moment, then opening again. "Ruth," he exhaled, "are you –"_

_She kissed him in reply, pulling him closer with her leg. He positioned himself and thrust gently into her, capturing her lips and swallowing her moans. She felt herself stretching almost to the point of pain, then the head slipped in and she used her heel against his bum to force him deeper. Slow and steady wasn't going to do either of them any good. Not now. Not when she was right on the cusp of –_

_She trembled and clenched around him, whimpering and tightening her grip on his hand, squeezing and holding tight as she could manage. It was new, desperate, and she couldn't control it – this need, this want, this physical desire that he'd managed to awaken in her._

"_You're so gorgeous when you come," James breathed against her lips. "I've never seen anything like it…" She didn't respond, but that was more because he moved his hips, drawing back, then thrusting forward. He was perfect; he fit her well, and they moved together in a sensual rhythm that time had forgotten. She was almost there again when he lost his battle, stiffening and holding her hip tightly with his hand, keeping her still. It wasn't enough to make her come, and she felt a little disappointed as he tucked his face into her shoulder._

"_Ruth?"_

_Her nerves were shattered; she wanted him something fierce, wanted to come with him –_

"_Ruth?"_

_She didn't realize she was crying until he wiped her tears away. "I'm sorry," she choked out. "I didn't mean to – god – I didn't mean to go to pieces."_

_He kissed her tears away, gently sliding from her body. He pulled back just long enough to toss the condom into the rubbish bin, then he kissed her gently on the lips. "Ruth, what's wrong?" James whispered._

"_I didn't – I didn't –" she stammered._

"_Come?" he asked. She nodded, her face flushing red. He smiled a little and said, "Easily enough taken care of." He kissed his way down her body, paying special attention to her breasts, then slowly, lazily drifting lower and lower until he'd found his goal._

_He licked and lapped at her as if she were to be his last meal, and she came apart at the seams, shattering into shards of brilliant oblivious bliss. Once, twice, three times more, he brought her over the edge, and then he kissed her lips and whispered, "Breathe, Ruth."_

_She wanted to breathe him in forever._

END PART TWO


	3. Chapter 3

Three:  
New Beginnings

Gareth helped her load the last basket of things into the car, and Ruth recoiled as he accidentally touched her. "Don't ever touch me again," she hissed. "Not ever. Do you understand?"

"Ruth, I didn't –" he began, then stopped. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Well, you did a passing fair imitation of wanting to," she snapped back. "And if, by some bloody miracle, you got me pregnant – despite the morning after pill and my birth control pills – you will have NO control over the child. None at all. Your name won't even be on the certificate of birth. Do you get me, Gareth?"

"I understand."

"Good. Don't touch me." She shuddered a little and glared at him.

He sighed. "I'm glad you've got a job lined up – and school for the girls."

She shook her head and said, "Just… go back inside and tell them it's time to leave."

"Ruth –"

She turned her back on him and tried to walk away.

"Ruth, I'm sorry."

"We're past sorry," she replied. "So far past sorry."

* * *

"Mum, I can't sleep," Daisy whispered. "Mum, are you awake?"

Ruth shook herself awake and moved her book off of her chest where she'd laid it before she nodded off. She patted the bed and murmured, "I am now, sweetheart. Come here."

"The house sounds funny," Daisy said, bouncing her way across the bed to cuddle up. "Like it's got ghosts."

Ruth laughed and gave her a kiss. "That's just your imagination, Margaret," she said with a smile. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"You don't believe in things you can't see?" Daisy asked.

"No, baby," Ruth murmured. "Not for a long time."

"What about love?" Daisy prompted. "You can't see love. But you love Rose and me, don't you?"

Ruth smiled and stroked her youngest child's hair. "I do," she agreed very softly. "I love you both so very much. That's why we came to London, sweetheart. Because I love you and I want what's best for you."

Daisy nodded and said, "Can we have fish and chips for supper tomorrow, mum?"

"Maybe," Ruth said. "We'll see. Tomorrow, we get to unpack, and Monday, you go back to school."

Daisy huffed. "I don't want to go back to school," she muttered.

"Tough luck, kiddo," Ruth replied.

Daisy smothered a yawn in her mother's shoulder, then said, "Is daddy going to come visit?"

Ruth shook her head. "No, honey," she said very quietly. She'd gotten a phone call from the solicitor during dinner saying that Gareth had agreed to relinquish all custody to the children, aside from monthly, supervised visits. "Daddy isn't coming to visit."

"I miss him," Daisy whined.

"Well, we'll just have to work on that," Ruth said softly. "In the morning."

Rose appeared in the doorway. "I don't like this house," she complained. "It makes funny noises like it's got ghosts."

"That's what I said!" Daisy added sleepily. "Mum doesn't believe in ghosts."

Ruth patted her other side and Rose practically dove into bed with them. "I'm sorry we had to move," she said softly. "But mummy's work is in London now."

"I like London," Rose said. "I don't like this house."

"Maybe…" Ruth paused. "Maybe tomorrow, we could go to the shelter and adopt a cat? Maybe that would help make the house more comfortable."

She didn't need to worry too much; both girls were sound asleep, cuddled up against her. Ruth sighed and held them. Rose had jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, and looked just like Ruth. Daisy had medium brown hair, a heart-shaped face, and one bright blue eye and one dark hazel eye with a spattering of freckles across her nose. They were both her girls, both precious, and she was determined to do the best she possibly could for them.

* * *

They ended up getting two cats, so neither girl felt left out. Fidget followed Rose around like a shadow, and Lily delighted in torturing Daisy. Fidget had come pre-named, but Lily had been Daisy's idea because the cat was stark white – aside from a very pale patch of brown on her belly.

They did eat fish and chips, and got everything ready for the next morning, when Ruth would take the girls to school, then run off to work for her first day at Thames House. She didn't know if she should be more nervous than she already was or not.

It had been three weeks since the incident in the kitchen and Ruth had begun to feel much like she had before when she'd been early in pregnancy. She was properly scared to take a test, though. Everything would change more one way or another; maybe it was best if she just got it out of the way.

Which is how she ended up sat on the edge of the tub in the bathroom after the girls had gone to sleep, waiting the bloody few minutes for the test to sort itself out. She drummed her fingertips on her thighs, remembering the last time she'd been like this – only then, she'd been desperately hoping against all hope that she was pregnant.

She got up and looked at the stick, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears. "Oh bugger fuck," she whispered. "Bugger fuck it all to hell."

* * *

Ruth juggled the files in her arms, heading for what she'd been told was the conference room, but she got turned around a bit. She finally got the right door and stepped inside. "I'm sorry, am I late?" she asked, dropping files onto the table, not looking up.

"You're our intelligence analyst, you tell me."

She looked up, felt her heart catch in her throat, and panicked.

She fainted dead away.

END PART THREE


	4. Chapter 4

Four:  
Abruption (Heart)

"_Are you sure you don't want something to eat?" James asked in a teasing tone. "I can call for some dessert –"_

"_You'll only want to lick it off me," Ruth replied, blushing and smiling._

"_Absolutely," he said with that silly grin that made her heart go melty. She really liked being with him, like this. He had loved her well, and now they were in that not-awkward place where they just enjoyed one another's company… naked._

"_Has anyone ever told you that you're a very naughty man?" she asked, smiling as he came back over for a kiss, settling between her thighs like a dead weight, kissing her like he meant it. Like the only place in the world he wanted to be right now was with her, making her hot with desire again._

"_You wouldn't want me if I were a nice man," James breathed against her lips. "Would you?"_

"_I want you in all the ways I can," she murmured, smiling. It was implied: all the ways I can before we have to part. The elephant in the room was that it was Sunday night and come tomorrow, the spell would be broken and all would be as it was before. But on the flip side, it was still Sunday night and she had a few hours before she had to be in bed and resting before her alarm went off. And they'd been making love off and on all day long, delighting and relishing each other._

_It was beyond sex: he had to feel the same way about it that she did. He'd touched her heart with his kindness, with his decency, with everything that he had inside him. But she was naive and full of hope, she knew. Men eluded her; she had no idea what went on in their heads._

"_Ruth, you looked very far away," James whispered._

"_Just thinking," she murmured. "About how I don't want this to end."_

"_Everything must end," he said gently. "But I want you to remember me fondly, Ruth, not as some arse who only wanted to get in your knickers."_

_She smiled and kissed him. "Do you really think I'd think of you that way, James?" she breathed. "I'll have you know, I only wanted in your trousers, so I guess that's that."_

_He chuckled and said, "I think that we're evenly matched, then."_

_He kissed her, and it only took seconds to become heated, needy, desperate._

* * *

"Are you okay?" the young woman asked anxiously, propping Ruth up gently against her knees. "Take a deep breath – you fainted."

Ruth's heart was beating so fast she couldn't breathe, and she wondered if she was having a heart attack on top of the bald-faced shock of seeing James Henry across the table from her. He was dead. James Henry was dead, killed in a car wreck – years and years ago. She tried to sit up.

"Careful," one of the men said. "Did she hit her head when she went down?"

Ruth finally managed to catch her breath, and choked out, "I'm fine – I just – I just got dizzy. I didn't have breakfast."

James grunted and said, "Someone get her a muffin. And a cup of tea."

"Just water," Ruth spoke up quickly. "Please."

She was lifted up off the floor by strong , supporting arms, and led to her chair. Someone put a muffin and some water in front of her and she tried to concentrate. It was hard. Hard wasn't even the word for it.

It was impossible.

He was sitting there – so close she could just go over the table and touch him to make sure he was real. But that wouldn't be proper at all. Nothing about this was proper. Oh god, her stomach was turning flips now and she thought she might be sick.

Some part of her brain kicked in and she managed to have a normal conversation with these people after all. Her team – her – her coworkers. She had no idea who any of them were, really, but that would come later, wouldn't it?

They filed out of the room, aside from them – him and her. James and Ruth.

He looked at her for a long moment, then said, "My name is Henry James Pearce; I am the Section Head of Anti-Terrorism, better known as Section D. I'm only saying this now because everyone calls me Harry, and you will need to know that."

She took a deep breath and managed to say, "You knew I was coming –"

"I requested you," he said simply. "Ruth Evershed. Married to Gareth Evershed; two daughters, Rosaleigh Elizabeth and Margaret Eloise, you've been working for GCHQ since you left Oxford with honors. You speak nine languages and can hack and code, as well as collate data and –"

"I don't need to hear my merits," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "And I'm separated."

"What happened between us –"

"What happened between us was incredible," she said, "but you're my boss and I – I won't jeopardize that." Ruth had been holding eye contact with him, then shied away from it. "And, for the record, I didn't faint because of seeing you again – don't flatter yourself." She wrung her hands nervously. "I just found out I'm… expecting. And I'm a little overwrought at the moment. What with moving and dealing with all of the… pressures of my kids. It won't happen again."

He scowled at her, his brows drawing together in an impenetrable line. "So you'll be needing time off," he muttered. "May I ask, was this as last-ditch effort to save your marriage?"

Ruth pursed her lips together and shook her head. "I was… assaulted," she said very quietly. "By my husband. It wasn't… there's nothing… I couldn't. I just –" She took a deep breath and grabbed her files, walking away from him as quickly as she could. She couldn't bear the thought of him pitying her.

He caught her in the corridor, gently reaching out and touching her shoulder, just enough to make her stop. "Ruth," Harry whispered. "Please look at me."

She turned around and blinked at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"I went round to see you and your husband opened the door with a little girl and – he told me you were married, and I thought I – I couldn't wreck that for you." He was trying to explain, but it was sad, stilted. "And I retired my legend so you couldn't come after me."

She took a deep breath and said, "I mourned a man that didn't exist."

Harry nodded slowly and lowered his voice. "What we had those two nights… was… beyond words, Ruth. I was stupid to believe that you didn't have someone in your life who was already enjoying those talents –"

She looked at him for a long moment, then said, "My husband is gay, Harry. The only times he ever had sex with me was to get me pregnant or to hurt me. No one 'enjoyed' me but you." She turned on her heel and walked away, hoping she could get to the ladies' before she started to cry.

* * *

"Mummy, I need new shoes," Daisy said, bouncing over to the table. "See, my toes are sticking out."

Ruth was trying to finish something for work and she barely looked up. "Yes, they are," she agreed with a sigh. "It'll have to wait till the weekend, unless I order them online."

"But if you order them online, how do you know they'll fit, mummy?" Daisy asked.

"Sweetie, mum's busy – I'm almost done," Ruth pleaded.

"No, you need to listen to me, mummy –"

Rose said, "Shut up, Daisy, I'm trying to finish my homework!"

Daisy stopped dead in her tracks, and started to cry. Ruth immediately slammed the laptop shut and took her daughter in her arms and held her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she murmured. "I'm sorry." When the sniffles and sobs had died down, she said, "How about I order curry for supper?"

"But I want noodles," Daisy mumbled.

"Okay, we'll get some ramen," Ruth said with a sigh. "I'll have to look up a place that's close and delivers, okay? If I can't find a noodle shop, what would you like?"

"Pizza," Rose said immediately.

"Pizza's okay," Daisy said very quietly.

"Rose, apologize for yelling at your sister," Ruth said.

"I'm sorry," Rose sighed.

"Now, I have to finish my work, so I can send it to my boss," Ruth said very softly. "Can you go make sure the cats have food and water? I'll be done in just a few minutes."

Daisy sighed. "Okay, mummy," she agreed. She headed off to check on the cats.

Ruth had just hit send on the email when the doorbell rang.

Daisy shrieked, "Yay, food's here!" and took off before Ruth could stop her or even catch up. The front door flew open and she stopped dead still. "You're not the food man."

Ruth caught up just then and found herself staring at Harry. "Uh, no, I'm not the food man," Harry said.

"Mummy, I'm HUNGRY," Daisy said. "I WANT NOODLES NOW." She stomped off, scaring Lily as she went by kicking at the poor cat.

Ruth said, "I'm sorry, she's not normally like that – she's just tired and hungry and it's been a hard first day at school."

"How old is she?" Harry asked with a smile.

"Eight," Ruth sighed. "Old enough to be a problem." She swallowed hard and said, "Please don't think I'm being rude, but… why are you here?"

"I thought we should talk," he said, "somewhere without CCTV cameras and bugs at every corner."

"There's nothing to talk about," Ruth said quietly. "You're the boss: no hanky-panky."

"Ruth," he said, his voice low and smooth. "We have a lot to talk about."

She glanced at him and sighed. "Do you know of a Japanese noodle shop anywhere near here? Barring that, a pizza place that will let us do corn, ricotta, and ham?"

* * *

"_Yes, a medium pizza," James said with a smile down at Ruth. "Toppings? Uh, hold on a second –"_

"_Corn, ricotta and ham," Ruth murmured, kissing a scar on his side._

"_Corn, ricotta, and ham," he spoke quickly into the phone. "Cash. Yes. Biltmore Hotel, room 224." He hung up and growled teasingly, "That better be a damn good pizza if you're going to torture me like that…"_

_She smiled and said, "You'll never go back."_

_She kissed her way down his body, worshipping him the way she would if she had him every day of her life. She took him into her mouth and listened to the way he groaned and panted, the way his voice cracked when he tried to speak. She knew he liked it; there was no doubt. And when he came, she cleaned him up like a pro. She'd definitely earned her dinner._

* * *

Daisy looked at him with suspicion. "Why's he staying for supper if he's just your boss?" she asked. "Doesn't he have a house to go home to?"

Rose rolled her eyes and sighed. "They have work stuff to talk about, stupid, and they can't do it till we go to bed," she said with annoyance. "So he's staying for supper."

Daisy huffed. "Mum, can I have a biscuit?" she asked.

"Yes," Ruth said, just to get her to stop whining.

Harry was watching the scene with somewhat bewildered amusement. After Ruth had ordered the pizza, Daisy had become increasingly belligerent. He seemed to think that it was all very funny.

"Rose, this is Harry – my boss," Ruth said. Rose looked up and smiled tightly, then went back to her maths. "Daisy – don't climb in the cupboard!" Ruth cried just as the shelves came down and Daisy – and the meager contents of the pantry – with them.

The little girl lay on the floor, stunned. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and started to scream at the top of her lungs – which then turned into abject sobbing. Ruth rushed over and checked her over for anything other than bruises, and was rewarded with a tight embrace from the little girl. "Shh," Ruth soothed. "Silly girl," she murmured. "The biscuits are on the counter by the oven."

"I FORGOT!" Daisy sobbed at the top of her lungs.

The doorbell rang and Ruth looked from her daughter to Harry, and then toward the front door, and she didn't honestly know what to do. She almost started crying herself, but Harry got up and went to answer the door and pay for the food.

The instant the pizza boxes were on the table, Daisy's sobs died down and she got up and went to eat. Ruth just sat there on the floor, looking at the mess and she swiped at the tears that overflowed suddenly from her eyes.

It wasn't the shelves; it was everything. Running into James – Harry. Dealing with a stressful first day at work. Being pregnant. Being alone with her kids – properly alone – for the first time ever. Not finding a sodding noodle shop within ten miles. Harry inviting himself over.

She just sat there on the floor and wondered if she could have a do-over day.

Harry came over and knelt down beside her with some effort. "Ruth?"

She swiped at her eyes and mumbled, "I'm fine. I'm sorry."

"Let me help you up," he said.

"No, I'm okay," she said, rising from the floor easily, then offering her hand to him. "You've got a dodgy knee, Tom said, so… let me help you."

* * *

Later, after the girls were in bed and a chapter of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone had been read for them, Ruth came back downstairs to find Harry putting books from one of her boxes away on the bookshelves.

"Sorry," she said softly, "I've only just gotten them off to sleep."

"No, it's all right," he said. "I've just been putting up some books and alphabetizing them."

Ruth smiled; it was really quite sweet, but he'd never understand how she wanted them on the shelves, so she'd just wait till he was gone and fix it. "Thank you," she murmured.

He put the last book from the box up on the shelf and turned to face her. "We have a lot to talk about, Ruth," he said.

Her smile vanished, and she said, "Before you ask… yes. She's yours. Daisy is yours."

He stopped stock-still and said, "I wasn't going to ask that – what – she's –"

She realized suddenly that she might have just utterly put her foot in it.

END PART FOUR


	5. Chapter 5

Five:  
Bearing in Mind the Truth

He just stared at her, his mouth slightly open with shock. Suddenly, he gestured between them and said in a very hollow voice, "I meant we should talk about the inevitable leave of absence and coverage of your position with preparation of a temporary replacement. Not… talk about – whatever the hell this has just become between us."

She said very quietly, "I didn't mean to tell you like that."

"How did you mean to tell me?" he questioned. "Because I'd like to know –"

"I didn't," she whispered. "Mean to tell you. At all. Ever."

"Then why did you?"

"Because that's what I thought you were going to ask me, seeing her – seeing how much she looks like you, knowing our history –" She gestured between them and felt pained, knowing that he wanted to be as far away from her as possible now. "I thought you'd put two and two together about the timing and – I guess I panicked."

"We used contraception," he pointed out.

"Yes, well, apparently nothing is foolproof in that regard," Ruth said in a tiny, resigned voice. "Because I used the strongest contraception on the market this time and I still managed to get up the spout, didn't I?"

He sighed and just watched her for a long moment. "I want a DNA test," he said firmly. "It's not that I don't want to believe you, but I've been around the block a few times and – this, to be honest, isn't the first time a situation like this has landed on my doorstep."

She smiled sadly. "Yes, I thought that might be the case, seeing as how you seduced me," she murmured. "It was a very lovely couple of days, honestly, but that's all it was, wasn't it? An interlude before you went home to your spy job and your wife and kids…"

Harry looked like she'd hurt him, slapped him, though she hadn't come anywhere near him. "Ruth, it wasn't like that. I was undercover at Cheltenham Ladies College as a teacher, and I was just about to return home, so I went out for a drink and… I had no intention of seducing anyone, honestly, when I went out that night."

She frowned and shook her head. "You don't have to explain your motives to me," she said quietly. "I should've known that I was just a quiet pity fuck. It's okay. No one wanted me then and no one wants me now. I'm used to it." She exhaled and swiped at the tears that had begun to form in her eyes. "We'll do the test – just… get me the swab and I'll make sure she does it right."

"It's a formality, you know," he said. "I will take care of her, if she's mine – it's the least I can do for your inconvenience…"

"Inconvenience?" Ruth echoed, this time feeling like she was the one being slapped. "Daisy is a child, not an inconvenience! She's… yes, she's stubborn and awful when she gets in her moods, but I'd never… never… wish her away, Harry Pearce. She's here and she's ours and that's that done years ago. I'm not trying to trap you into anything or make you believe I can't take care of her – because I can. I bloody well can. I will. I just… I've taken her away from the only father she's ever known and by god, if you want to be a part of her life, who am I to stop you?" Suddenly, a shadow fell over her and she whispered, "Oh god, please don't tell me you want to take her away – "

"No, I don't want to take her away from you," he sighed. "I'm a rubbish dad. Ask my kids: I'm as dreadful as they come. She's right where she needs to be – with you."

Ruth's panic subsided a little and she said, "I honestly didn't mean to tell you."

"It's a pretty big secret to keep," he said.

She shrugged and sighed. "Well… we can't take back what happened, can we?"

"No, we can't – nor would I want to," he said quietly.

Ruth swallowed hard, not daring to read anything into his words beyond that he was glad that they'd met and slept together. _You stupid git, you had sex. Incredible, mind-blowing sex_, she chided herself silently. _There was almost no sleeping involved. _She took a deep breath and said, "Maybe… maybe we can move past this. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't upset me," he said. "Surprised the hell out of me, but you didn't upset me. If you said you knew I was alive and kept her from me on purpose… that would upset me. A lot."

Ruth shook her head and sighed. "I really thought you were dead," she murmured. "I was… god, I feel so stupid even saying this. I was going to find you and leave Gareth. I was. And then when I went searching, there was the accident and the obituary and – I cried and cried." She looked away from him, refusing to meet his eyes. "No one – no one ever – made me feel like I was special or wanted or… needed. Except you. But it was all a lie, wasn't it?"

He was very quiet for a long time, until she thought her heart might break from his lack of response. "No," Harry said. "It wasn't all lies. Maybe a few little white ones to get you into bed, but… you were special even then, Ruth."

She shook her head and sighed. "We have a history, but we shouldn't use it like a crutch. The team will pick up on any undercurrents between us and exploit them. You'll get in trouble and I'm already in a pickle."

"Which is why I came by in the first place –"

Ruth couldn't look at him. She just sat down in her chair and looked at her hands, clasped together and resting on her knees. "I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurts me to be pregnant," she admitted very quietly. "I don't want another child – not his."

"I don't think I'm qualified to –"

She looked up at him, feeling pitiful. "I just needed to say it," she whispered. "Out loud, to someone."

His face was unreadable, and she knew she was taking liberties she shouldn't. He was her boss; she didn't even know him. Not really. She hadn't even known James Henry – she could have fallen in love with him if it had come to that, but she didn't know him. "Harry, I'm sorry," she murmured. "Maybe we should talk about this some other time. It's been… a hard day. We're both tired and not thinking straight, are we?"

"I'm in complete control of my faculties, Ruth," Harry said. "But it's clear that you need to rest. I'll just –"

She said, "God, I almost forgot – I've got cash to pay you back for the pizza –"

He shook his head. "No, it's quite all right –"

She got up and hurried into the kitchen, getting some bills out of her wallet. When she turned around, he was right there, and she jumped, shying away. Her voice was thin and tight as she held out the money and said, "I meant it when I said I can take care of us. But thank you."

He sighed a little and said, "I will arrange for the DNA kit to be delivered to you."

She nodded and murmured, "I'll get it done and turned in."

He finally, grudgingly, took the money and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "Ruth, I –"

Harry stopped speaking and just stood there, his hands clenching into fists, and releasing, as if he were fighting an inner war she wasn't privy to.

She wanted to reach out, take his hand, and lead him upstairs. But that way lay madness and self-destruction. He wasn't the man she might have loved once. Not really. James had just been a role he had played, and she was his unwitting ingénue.

He finally seemed to make a decision, and turned, heading away from her, toward the front door. She closed her eyes and almost sighed in something akin to relief.

She wasn't expecting to feel his hand curl around hers, nor his lips against the shell of her ear as he whispered, "I could never forget you." His lips captured hers in a passionate kiss, then he broke away and was gone, leaving her bereft and alone in her kitchen.

* * *

"_Do you live close by?" Ruth asked softly, curled up in the crook of his elbow._

"_Do you?" James replied, chuckling._

"_Yes," she murmured._

"_I'm only here for the school year," he said. "I have a flat in London."_

"_Oh, very posh," she teased, tucking her face into his chest and smiling._

"_No, it's rather a shithole," he laughed. "But it's mine."_

"_I haven't been to London in ages," she murmured. "Not since…" She stopped talking, knowing she was going to out herself as married with child, and she couldn't do that to him. "You know, I should come see you sometime. In London. It would be a lark – we could go to the theatre or the opera or –"_

"_Spend the nights making love under the stars on the roof of my building," he said softly._

_She smiled. "Yes," Ruth breathed. "I think I'd like that."_

END PART FIVE


	6. Chapter 6

Six:  
Distance

Ruth quickly fell into a routine on the Grid. She was always ten minutes early, and worked right up to five o'clock. She did her job well, thoroughly, and packed more into her nine hours than her colleagues did because she wanted to go home and take care of her family. And do mundane things like go shopping at Tesco for biscuits and tea bags.

Sam brought lunch one day, and pulled her chair over to Ruth's desk. "So," Sam said with a grin, "we haven't gotten to know each other very well, so… let's."

"I'm afraid there's not much to tell," Ruth said with a small smile as Sam offered her half of her sandwich. "I'm a single parent on the verge of divorce with two daughters."

"And another one on the way," Sam said.

Ruth felt her cheek twitch reflexively and said, "Yeah." Truth was, she hadn't decided yet what to do about that. She thought abortion was too desperate, but it was horrible, staring at herself in the mirror and knowing what Gareth had done. And suddenly it didn't seem so desperate after all. It seemed logical, forward thinking.

She'd gone to her first scan and the doctor had been surprised to learn the baby had been unwanted. Ruth had given blood and had tests to figure out why the contraceptives hadn't worked. It turned out that she had just enough of a hormone imbalance that the pill wasn't effective. It wasn't enough to cause horrible symptoms aside from light, sometimes non-existent periods and a wildly swinging ovulation cycle, but it was enough to skew the most effective ways to combat unwanted pregnancy. Ruth had admitted to the doctor that she wasn't sure if she wanted to keep the baby, but she had a small window in which to act and affect a decision.

Sam regarded her carefully. "You're brilliant," she said.

Ruth shrugged. "Even geniuses are bloody stupid sometimes," she said quietly, glancing over at Harry's office. He was on the phone, pacing back and forth, and she looked away before anyone caught her.

Sam said, "So, any wild dates coming up to celebrate being single?"

Ruth laughed. "Yeah, right."

"Come on, Ruth, throw me a bone," Sam sighed. "I'm bored."

Ruth smiled a little. "Well, this weekend, I'm planning on taking the girls shopping," she said. "Rose needs a dress for her harp performance at church, and Daisy needs new everything because she's shot up a couple of inches in the last month."

Sam made a face. "Family life is boring," she complained, offering Ruth a bag of crisps.

Zoe rolled over. "What're you two doing over here?" she asked. "Gossiping?"

"Ruth's boring," Sam said with a sigh.

"Just because I'm a bit of a homebody when I'm not here doesn't mean I'm boring," Ruth argued, tossing the bag of crisps at Zoe.

Harry came out of his office and said, "Ruth, I need to see you immediately."

"Uh-oh," Sam said. "That's not good."

Ruth finished her part of the sandwich before she went into his office. "Close the door," he said, "and sit down, please."

She did as he asked, then said, "Is this about the DNA test?"

He nodded and said, "I've just gotten the results."

"I thought those took weeks –"

"I fast-tracked it," he admitted. "I haven't opened the envelope yet."

She nodded and sighed. "Well, I know what it says, so… go ahead."

He contemplated her for a long moment, then opened the envelope and read the enclosed paperwork. He sighed and rubbed his brow. "Well… then."

She didn't move, didn't breathe, just sat there, waiting.

"I suppose we should talk about how to handle this," he said very quietly.

"Not here," she said quietly. "Come by tonight – we're having shepherd's pie. And coconut custard for dessert."

"I'm starting to feel more welcome in your home than mine," he commented wryly.

She blushed, just a little, then said, "They've been asking when you're coming back. I think they were entertained by you liking their favorite pizza."

"That is entirely your fault, by the way," he said. "You corrupted me."

"Yes," she agreed quietly, rising to her feet and escaping before things got too out of hand.

Sam and Zoe were waiting for her back at her desk. "So, what did Harry want?" Zoe asked.

"Nothing important," Ruth murmured. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to work so I can get home on time."

* * *

Daisy giggled as she helped Ruth put the mashed potatoes on top of the shepherd's pie. "It looks like alien brains," she said, her laughter infectious.

"And how would you know how alien brains are meant to look?" Ruth replied with a smile and a light laugh, tickling Daisy's sides. "Silly girl."

"Mum, is dad coming this weekend?" Rose asked as she set the table.

"No, he's going to see your grandmum," Ruth said softly, sobering. "He'll be here next weekend to take you girls out for lunch and to the park."

Rose sighed. "Mum, I – I – "

She was cut off by the doorbell, and Ruth sighed. Harry had rubbish timing. "Rose," she said as she opened the oven and put the pan inside, "he can't come." She hurried to the front door and smiled at Harry when she opened it. "Hello," she murmured. "The casserole is in the oven and the custard is cooling –"

He cut her off with a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for inviting me," Harry said.

Daisy skipped into the entryway. "Mr. Harry! Did you come to try our alien brains?"

Harry looked at her, confused. "I thought we were having shepherd's pie?"

"The potatoes look like alien brains," Ruth said as if it made sense.

He nodded and said, "Ohhhh…"

"I kept telling mummy you should come back over," Daisy said. "You're nice. Rose and I like nice people. We like you."

Rose called out of the kitchen, "Speak for yourself, Squish."

Daisy stuck her tongue out in that direction, then said conspiratorially, "Well, I like you, Mr. Harry."

Harry took the little girl's offered hand and said, "I quite like you, too, Daisy."

"My real name's Margaret," she said cheerfully. "Mummy calls me Daisy because I've got a sunny smile. Isn't that right, mummy?"

"Right," Ruth replied. "Can you keep Harry company so I can get some laundry in?"

Daisy nodded and smiled widely. "Come on, Mr. Harry – I've got new books." She yanked him over to the sitting room, and Ruth retreated upstairs to get the girls' dirty clothes hampers. She sighed and wondered how everything would fit together now; he clearly wanted to be a part of Daisy's life, but Rose was already feeling bitter and left out. It wasn't going to be easy.

Rose met her at the bottom of the stairs and grabbed one of the hampers to help her. They got a load of laundry going, then Ruth went to check on the casserole. Rose followed her and said, "Harry is… strange, mum. You're just someone who works for him, right? So why does he keep coming over? Doesn't he have a family of his own?"

Ruth sighed and pulled Rose close for a hug. "He's lonely," she said softly, "and he misses his kids. You and your sister make him smile, so I'm glad we can help him."

Rose sighed. "Okay," she said doubtfully.

"Besides, he's only been over twice now," Ruth added.

Rose mumbled, "Dad hasn't come once."

Ruth sighed and said, "Next weekend, dear heart."

"Can I call him?"

"Yes, after supper," Ruth promised.

"What's after supper, mummy?" Daisy asked, bouncing into the room with Harry in tow.

"Rose is going to call your dad," Ruth said.

"Oh, goody!" Daisy squealed. "I miss him!"

Harry glanced at Ruth and she looked away, trying to hide her stricken countenance from him. "Have you two finished your homework?" she asked, fiddling with one of the tea towels.

"Almost," Rose said.

"Yes!" Daisy exclaimed.

Ruth nodded. "Okay, then," she murmured. "You can call your dad after supper. Now, go wash up – supper will be ready in a few minutes."

The two took off upstairs in a hurry and left her alone with Harry. He came over and gently rested a hand on her back, and she stiffened, pulling away. "Ruth… you're upset," he reasoned.

"No," she said, "I'm just at a loss as to what the kids see in him."

"He's their father," Harry said. "Or he has been."

She shook her head and sighed. "I just… I can't, Harry. I can't do this alone. I know I talk a good game, but it's so hard."

"Nothing worth having is ever easy," Harry said softly, rubbing her back.

It was a startlingly loving gesture, and she flinched, pulling away from him. "Please don't," Ruth said very quietly. "Don't put yourself in the middle of this. It's nothing to do with you."

"If Margaret is in the middle –"

"Harry," she warned, "just stay out of it right now, okay?" Her voice was sharper than she intended.

He sighed and nodded. "All right."

She left him to pull the casserole out of the oven, nearly singeing a finger while she was at it. "Ow," she mumbled, sucking on her index finger. "Stupid mitt."

He reached out and examined her finger carefully, then placed a single kiss against the skin. "I'll start my fatherly duties by buying you a new hot mitt," he commented dryly.

She just stared at him, open-mouthed.

The girls raced back in and Daisy cried, "Alien brains! And mince!"

Harry and Ruth decided to sit as far away from each other as humanly possible. Because they inevitably felt drawn toward one another, and it was… wrong.

* * *

After the girls were in bed, Ruth sank into her overstuffed easy chair. Harry had made himself quite comfortable on the couch, having taken off his jacket and just sitting there. "That was delicious," he commented.

She nodded and said, "I didn't mean to snap at you earlier. I just… I have to deal with Gareth. You don't. I don't need anyone fighting my battles for me."

"You were admitting how difficult your new life is, then you contradict yourself by not wanting help," he sighed. "Ruth, I don't know which way is up with you."

"I don't either!" she said, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't know what I want – from you, from the situation, any of it. I don't know. I just don't, Harry."

He got up and began to pace. "I want to be here for you," he said, "for your children – not just Margaret. The man you're about to be divorced from is not a good influence on them, and I cannot guarantee to be much better… but I shan't hurt their mother for the sake of it."

She glared at him. "You can't just barge in and make yourself head of household –"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, coming over and cupping her face in his hands. He kissed her; once, twice, three times, each time with an increase of need and want. She acquiesced, opening her lips and moaning deep in her throat as he reminded her of two nights of bliss in a shitty hotel in Cheltenham so long ago.

"Harry," she breathed when he pulled away, "we can't."

"We can," he said. "We will. But not now." He kissed her once more, and left.

She didn't know what was worse: that he still affected her so deeply, or that he expected to just slide into her life without resistance.

END PART SIX


	7. Chapter 7

Seven:  
Spy vs. Spy

Ruth smiled over at Tom and said, "If we'd've been really trading, Danny would've made fifty grand." There was a hint of pride in her voice, and Tom clearly approved of her teachings.

"How do you know so much about this?" he asked.

She shrugged a little and her smile faded a touch, becoming self-deprecating. "My husband is a big swinging dick," she said, her voice hardening. "That's slang for a trader." She turned back to her monitor.

"How does Danny stack up?" Tom asked.

"Oh, he's a… huge… talent," Ruth muttered.

She still felt a bit odd, using Gareth's old techniques like she had. He hadn't cared that she was actually sometimes the brains behind his investment strategies. But he always reaped the benefits, and she felt slightly bitter about it now that she lived in a creaky old house with leaks and woodworm and drove a beat-up old Beamer that had seen better days. While he lived in their luxurious house with its white and black and chrome and drove a bloody Rolls Royce.

Tom gave her a concerned glance, but she blew his concern off with a dismissive wave of the hand. Of course, she had other things on her mind. Like how she was going to cover up that she was sending information off-Grid to Downing Street. She felt guilty about it, of course, but… it was the price of doing business, wasn't it? She was out of Cheltenham and in the thick of things, but at a price. She knew if she were to be caught, it would be catastrophic.

So she wasn't about to be caught.

* * *

She was on the phone when she tripped on the cat and fell down the stairs. It didn't help that she was on the phone with Gareth – who was reneging on his promise to the girls about being there for the weekend – when she tripped. She half-slid, half-rolled down the flight of stairs, landing finally with her legs going up the stairs at an angle, her torso twisted and bruised around the lowest part of the balustrade, her head dangling dangerously. She tried to move, but only slid further, and her body rolled, catching her abdomen hard on the edge of the step. She bit her lip and whimpered.

"Ruth? RUTH?" she heard from the phone – which had not broken when it had skittered across the floor.

"Mummy!" Daisy shrieked in horror, running over.

"I'm fine," Ruth exhaled weakly. "I'm okay – baby, go get the phone… daddy's on the phone. Tell him I just had a fall and I'm okay."

Daisy shook her head and held her mother's hand tightly. "Nuh-uh, I'm not gonna," she said. "Mummy, you're hurt –"

Rose grabbed the phone, having heard what her mother had told her sister, and said, "Daddy – mum fell. She's okay, she says." She paused and said, "I'm not going to say that."

"Say what?" Ruth asked, trying to sit up. She cringed in pain and fell back against the hard steps.

Rose hesitated, then said very quietly and quickly, "Daddy says you've always been klutzy and this isn't the first time it's happened."

Ruth closed her eyes and sighed. "That's true enough," she murmured.

"Dad wants to know if you need him to come over," Rose added.

"NO," Ruth snapped. "If he can't be bothered to show up this weekend, what makes him think he's bloody well wanted NOW?"

Rose got a very hurt look on her face, and said into the phone, "You aren't coming this weekend? I HATE YOU. GO TO HELL." She hung up and started to cry.

"Mummy, you're hurt," Daisy said softly. "Should we call an ambulance?"

"No, I'm –" Ruth flinched and doubled over.

Rose sniffled and said, "Mum –"

Ruth whimpered and breathed, "Call… grandmum."

"She's all the way in Cheltenham!" Rose exclaimed. "What's she going to do?"

"Harry," Ruth gasped. "Call Harry."

"I don't know the number," Rose said.

Daisy left her mother and ran for Ruth's cellphone on the charger in the sitting room. She came back, phone pressed to her ear. "Mister Harry! Mister Harry, this is Daisy. Daisy Evershed. Yes, Mister Harry – it's an emergency, please. My mummy fell down the stairs and she's hurt. Rose and I don't know what to do and she doesn't want us to call an ambulance –" She paused and said, "Mummy, did you hit your head?"

"No, I don't think so," Ruth gasped. It was hard to breathe, so she thought maybe she'd cracked a rib or two, and her spine and belly felt like they'd been battered by someone with fists at the ready.

"She doesn't think she did, Mister Harry," Daisy said. "Her tummy hurts, though, and she hasn't gotten up." The little girl nodded and said, "Okay – mummy, Mister Harry is coming over. He says not to try to move too much."

Ruth nodded a little and closed her eyes, trying to will the pain to go away. She didn't want to go to hospital for something stupid like falling down the stairs because she was distracted. Her innate clumsiness had reared its ugly head again, and she felt like a fool.

Rose curled up on the stairs beside her, holding her hand, crying. _Poor thing_, Ruth thought. She wasn't nearly as tough or as laid-back as she projected. In the end, she was easily hurt and her shyness only made it worse. That her father had made her shout was an anomaly and it proved how upset she was.

After a while, the pain ebbed to an uncomfortable ache. She heard Daisy open the door and say, "Mister Harry, thank you for coming – mummy's hurt bad."

Rose whispered, "She's been really quiet, Mister Harry. I'm scared."

Ruth opened her eyes. Harry knelt down beside her and said, "If you wanted me to come over, you need only have called. Not thrown yourself down the stairwell."

She laughed, then gasped as the pain sliced through her again. "Oh, don't make me laugh," Ruth begged.

He checked her over and finally said, "I don't think you need A&E, but you're probably going to ache for a few days. Let's get you onto the sofa and get some paracetamol – Rose, do you know where your mum keeps the tablets?"

"Over the refrigerator," Rose replied automatically.

Harry looked at Rose and said, "Your mum is going to be okay. I promise. But I need you and Daisy to do me a favor."

Rose hesitated, then nodded. "Okay, Mister Harry," she agreed.

"I need you to make your mum a cup of tea the way she likes it best and bring me two tablets of paracetamol," he said in a tone that booked no argument. "Can you do that?"

Rose nodded and said, "Come on, Squish – let's go make some tea and get the pills for mum."

Daisy was clearly torn; she looked back and forth between her mum and her sister, then finally followed Rose. "Why do you call me Squish?" she whined.

"You've seen Finding Nemo," Rose said, her voice carrying from the kitchen. "You're my Squishy – and I shall love you and hug you and call you my Squishy."

Ruth bit back a laugh and groaned. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I didn't know who else to call –"

"No, don't be sorry," Harry said, helping her sit up slowly. "Don't ever think you should be sorry for calling me when there's an emergency. What happened?"

"I was…" She was taking deep gasps between words. "Talking… to Gareth about… the girls and… this weekend… and I wasn't paying… enough attention… and tripped… on the bloody cat."

As soon as she was sitting instead of laying, he kissed her forehead. "You could have been killed," he said softly. "Or hurt much worse than this."

"I know," she whimpered.

He somehow got her to her feet and led her into the sitting room before getting her to lie down on the sofa. He tucked a blanket around her and said, "Do you have any idea how scared I was when Daisy said you fell?" The raw honesty and concern on his face told her all she needed to know.

"Yes," she whispered, reaching for his hand. She held it, squeezed it. "I'm sorry."

He leaned in and kissed her, gently on the lips. "I'm glad you're not seriously hurt," he admitted quietly.

She inhaled and whispered, "Harry… what do you want from me?"

"What?" he asked.

"Am I just… convenient?" she asked, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Are we just a family for you to pretend with because you can't have the real thing? What do you want from me?"

"Now isn't the time for this," Harry said firmly.

"It's exactly the time," she whispered. "Gareth doesn't want to see them. The divorce is almost finalized. Daisy is yours. I need to know if you're just going to cut and run when things get hard, like him."

Harry was very quiet for a long time. "Ruth, we have a history," he said. "I want there to be more – a future, not just the past. But I don't know how to go about it. I'm not… emotionally… able to tell you how I feel, because I don't know myself."

She swallowed hard and nodded, opening her eyes again. "I could have loved you," she said softly. "But now… I don't know how."

Rose came in with a mug of steaming tea and Daisy carried the bottle of pain reliever. "You should give them to her, Mister Harry," Daisy said quietly. "We're not supposed to get into the bottle."

"You're my good girls," Ruth said softly. "Did you use the microwave instead of the stove?"

Rose shook her head. "I used your electric kettle, mum," she admitted. "Is that okay?"

Ruth nodded and smiled weakly. "Yeah, sweetheart," she murmured. "It's okay."

Daisy gave Harry the bottle of pain medicine and said, "Can you make mummy feel better, Mister Harry?" She looked sad, anxious, and more than a little scared.

"I will," Harry promised, opening the bottle. "Can you and Rose go wait in the kitchen?"

Ruth murmured, "Rose, you can make cocoa with the good chocolate and mummy's good guimauve. And have some of the special biscuits."

"We can?" Daisy said, her eyes lighting up.

Ruth nodded. "Go on," she urged softly. "Make Harry a cup of cocoa, too."

When they were gone, he said, "I'm not sure I should leave you to your own devices tonight."

She shook her head and sighed. "I'm not sure I could move if I tried. Everything hurts."

"Tom came to me today," he said. "He has evidence that you've been spying for Downing Street."

Ruth felt all the blood drain from her face. "Harry – I hadn't any choice –"

He looked at her and said, "I know. Simply put, I know you haven't had a choice because I orchestrated the situation of your employment with MI-5. You're a triple agent and didn't even know it." He sighed. "Tom's going to bluster and blunder about it and you must pretend I haven't spoken to you. Do you understand? I've needed a way to feed just enough information to the government to get them to move on some issues, and you seem to be the most unlikely channel of information I have."

"You're using me?" she hissed.

"Oh, don't play coy," he said. "You wouldn't have wanted to join Five so badly if you didn't want to be a spy, Ruth."

She glared at him. "Don't pretend you know my motivations –"

He leaned in close and breathed in her ear, "If I didn't know better, I would have said your motivation was to get close to me." She shivered, despite herself, and let out a low cry of pain. He immediately pulled away, knowing he'd been the cause. He opened the bottle of medicine and shook out two tablets, and offered them to her with the cup of tea.

She took the medicine and drank the tea greedily. "I haven't had tea since I found out I was…" Ruth paused. "Harry, will Tom fire me? Suspend me?"

"I suggested that he attempt to make you see the error of your ways and turn you," Harry said with a teasing lilt to his voice. "There won't be consequences, since this was an operation more than anything else."

She nodded and closed her eyes. "Go have your hot chocolate with Rose and Daisy," she murmured. "You must convince them that I'll be all right and that they should get ready for bed. They have school in the morning and we have work."

"I'm not leaving," he said. "Unless there's an emergency call, that is."

"Harry –"

"You're in no condition to take care of Rose and Daisy," he pointed out. "Someone needs to."

"But –"

"Don't argue with me," he said.

She closed her mouth and sighed. "Fine," she muttered.

"Mister Harry, your cocoa's ready," Rose said quietly. "Mum, are you okay?"

Ruth nodded and said, "Harry's going to stay tonight and help make sure you and your sister get everything ready for school tomorrow."

"We just need to pack lunch and get our books ready," Rose said. "We don't need help."

"What about your story?" Ruth replied.

Rose said, "We can live without Harry Potter for one night, mum."

"I can read to you," Harry volunteered. "There's no need for you to go without because your mum's down here."

Daisy called, "Mister Harry, your cocoa's getting cold!"

"Go," Ruth insisted. "Both of you."

* * *

The cramping started about midnight. Ruth got up, trying not to disturb Harry, who had fallen into a fitful sleep in her easy chair, and limped to the bathroom. Luckily, she was prepared for many things, including unexpectedly heavy periods, and she didn't feel at all like starting to lose the baby was her fault. She hadn't wanted it anyway, and had been ready to commit to an abortion. This was easier, aside from the painful parts.

She examined her bruises in the mirror and sighed. Harry was sweet, looking after her, but what did he want in return? Absolution? Her?

God, she couldn't think straight. She knew she should go to A&E and be looked after, but it wasn't feasible: not when the operation was so near completion at work. Not when the girls needed her. Not when Henry was looking after her so much better than a hospital could.

He knocked on the door. "Ruth? Are you all right?"

She took a deep breath and opened the door. "I'm…" She looked for another word to use, but settled on, "Fine."

"Ruth, you're very pale."

"Well, I'm bleeding like I'm going to die," she shot back. "Of course I'm pale."

"You're bleeding?" he asked, alarmed.

"Yes," she said. "That kind of happens when you're having a miscarriage."

He just stared at her. "Oh, Ruth – god – we should take you to hospital –"

"No," she said softly. "There's nothing they can do but give me drugs to numb the pain now. I'm fine," she repeated. "I'm going to rest."

He followed her back to the sitting room and sat down in the chair again. She felt him watching her, and she sighed. "I'm sorry if my being worried offends you," Harry said.

"No, it's just… I'm not upset about it," she said. "Maybe I should be; maybe I'm a bad mum for not being sad."

"It's a reminder," he replied. "And you don't want to be reminded."

"No, I don't," she agreed quietly. "Do you think less of me because of it?"

"No," he said. "I don't. I think you're very brave, Ruth. In quite a normal way."

She looked over at him and whispered, "Harry… we don't know each other well enough to want things from each other. Do we?"

"Not yet," he answered in that honeyed tone that had seduced her into bed with him.

"But you want a future with me?"

"We don't need to talk about this now –"

"I want to love you," she said quietly. "But it's hard when you've been burned."

"Then I'll be patient," he said.

"You've already been patient," she pointed out. "We have a child together, we had two days of incredible… and – and now – now what?"

"Now, you rest because you fell down the stairs and I'm not entirely certain you didn't knock your head on the way down," he sighed. "There will be time to talk about this later, Ruth."

She closed her eyes and tried to think of a way to say what she wanted to without sounding like a total idiot. It took a long time, but she finally spoke into the darkness. "If we wait too long, later will never come," she whispered.

END PART SEVEN


	8. Chapter 8

Eight:  
Broken

No one questioned Ruth about her overly exuberant acceptance of a pint of cider at The George after the EERIE exercise. She was a little surprised that they weren't scolding her on the merits of drinking when pregnant, but then she realized a little too late that they already knew she wasn't anymore. It was hard to hide anything from the spooks.

She was hoping that the cider would take away the sting of the last forty-eight hours. She really had thought she'd be forced to mourn him all over again, and it had made her sick to her stomach. Even now, just thinking about it, she felt her chest get tight. She pushed her cider away and said, "I should get home –"

"I rang your mother and took the liberty of telling her we were having a training exercise; she's been watching your girls," Harry said. "Please stay and celebrate a job well done."

She shook her head and said, "No, Harry – I can't. I need to get home so I'm there when they get home from school." Everyone was watching her, and she added, "All I could think about during the exercise was my children. My girls, sick and dying, and I wouldn't have been there with them." Her voice cracked, broke. "What bloody kind of a mother am I?" She got her jacket and made a run for it, not surprised that she wasn't followed.

Her heart ached, her eyes burned from exhaustion and adrenaline withdrawal. She was almost twitching when she let herself in the front door, and when Elizabeth asked how the exercise went, Ruth burst into tears. "Mum, it was awful," she bawled. "It's was so – so – dreadful."

Elizabeth just held her and didn't ask anything more.

* * *

"Are you cross with me?" Harry asked down the phone line.

"Yes… no… I don't know," she said quietly as she finished getting ready for bed. She was still sore and bruised from her tumble down the stairs, and even putting clothes on hurt sometimes. "I just… I wish you could've warned me, Harry. I thought you were dead again, and idea of that and my girls dying… it was just too much. I almost fell apart. You don't need someone like that on your team. I was a fool to think I could fit into this world."

"Ruth, if you didn't think of your family, you wouldn't be human," Harry said. His tone was gentle, not condescending in the slightest. "I thought of my children and what it would be like to lose them to draw on my tears when I pretended to be ill. All of them – including Daisy and Rose."

"Rose isn't yours," Ruth said.

"No, but she's a package deal with Daisy, isn't she? Thus, I've begun to think of her as mine, as well." He sighed. "I thought of losing you, too… and that hurt just as much."

"They're going to find out," she said, referring to their coworkers. "And when they do, how is it going to look? Are we going to be in trouble with your superiors? Am I going to get fired for, god forbid, shagging the boss?"

"Does it surprise you to know that I don't care what they think?" Harry asked, his voice tight. "After today, after what we went through, even if it wasn't real, do you think that I care if someone makes a disparaging comment about us shagging?"

"You should, because it would undermine your authority –"

"Ruth, do you honestly think I don't remember the noises you made when you took me inside you?" he asked, his voice deepening. "Do you think that I'm such a hard man that I didn't fall halfway in love with you when you threw your bra up on the light fixture and laughed at my shoe breaking the lamp? Do you honestly think that I wanted to walk away when your husband opened the door? I wanted to fight for you – I wanted… everything with you."

It hung in the air like a cloud between them, his admission. She whispered, "Why didn't you? Why the bloody hell didn't you?"

"Because I'm an honorable man," he said very quietly. "And I can't… be something I'm not. You were married and had Rose and I couldn't, I wouldn't, harm that intentionally."

"And now?" she shot back.

"And now, if I knew how… I would go back and fix it," he whispered. "I'd have you and Rose and Daisy to myself. We wouldn't be apart. We would be happy. Because we're not happy now."

"Harry, I –"

"Do you know how many years I watched the secondment requests from GCHQ, praying your name would be on one of them? I don't pray," he added. "But for you? I'd start believing in a god."

"Harry," she whispered.

"You were the one that got away – you haunt my dreams, Ruth. With your sinful lips and your delicious bits and your thighs made to hold me…"

"Harry!"

"And I want you to know it, all of it," he said, lowering his voice to a dangerous, lust-filled whisper. "Because when you watch me on the Grid, when you think I'm looking at you, when you dream at night, I want you to think of me… of us… of me making you come so hard you see stars – and I want you to know how much I've wanted you all this time." He paused, taking a ragged breath. "THAT, Ruth – that is why I walked away. Because I couldn't hurt you by inflicting myself on you, by letting you know Harry Pearce."

"You could have let me make that decision for myself," she whispered.

"No," he said. "Don't you see? Don't you understand, Ruth? I'm made of lies and secrets and the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. Or your girls."

"Harry, I…"

"I love you."

The words cut like a knife, baring her soul in pieces, flaying them apart and leaving her exposed. "Harry…"

"It's the truth, regardless of whether or not you're ready to hear it."

She was about to reply, echoing his sentiment, but he'd already ended the call. Ruth took a deep breath and tried to will her heartbeat to slow down. He was very, very good at the seduction gambit. He wasn't even in the room and she was about to hop in the car, drive round to his, and shag him bloody senseless.

She couldn't. She wouldn't. But it didn't mean she couldn't fantasize about it.

She was just about to give up on sleep when her phone rang again. "Harry," she whispered.

"I'm standing at your front door and I want to ring the bell, but I'm scared I'll wake your mother or your daughters –"

She got up and all but flew downstairs, taking great pains not to trip on one of the cats, threw the door open, and kissed him with all the depth of feeling she had for him. He deepened the kiss, their tongues dueling for supremacy and dominance. She broke the kiss, desperate for air. "Come upstairs," she said softly. "You drove this far to see me; the least you can do is come upstairs."

The door was shut, and he pulled her back to him for another kiss. "Ruth –" he whispered against her lips. "What I said wasn't fair to you –"

"I don't care," she said, "about whether or not it's fair. It was the truth, and I know it is. And I want this – more than you possibly know." She murmured, "But we can't… really… make love right now. It's too soon after the miscarriage. Everything's… off. Not that it was on to begin with. God, I'm sorry – the usual methods of hormonal birth control don't work for me. It's an imbalance and – am I nattering?"

"You're so beautiful when you natter," he sighed, kissing her.

"I'm having tubal ligation next week," she said quietly. "If you were wondering."

He sighed and said, "I wasn't – I was wondering what it would take to get you upstairs so I can see if you still taste like honey and salt."

She blushed and whispered, "Harry, we can't do – full sex. A condom might fault –"

"There are many things we can do," he reminded her with a wolfish smile, "that don't involve possibly faulty condoms." He leaned in and kissed her hungrily, and she moaned, untucking his shirt from his trousers and feeling the softness of his skin beneath the fabric.

They headed upstairs in a quiet hurry, and she closed her door behind them. "We have to be quiet," she whispered. "Very quiet."

"I meant what I said; I love you," he growled softly, lifting the hem of her nightgown until it was up over her head and on the floor. He worshiped her curves with his eyes, and his smile showed her that even though her body had changed, he approved of the changes.

She would have blushed, but she felt no shame, no embarrassment from his intimate gaze, the one that darkened his eyes and made her realize that every word he'd spoken on the phone had been absolute truth. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, flinging it aside carelessly. Then off came his trousers and his trunks – that was a change; before, he had worn boxers – and they were left stood together, naked and aroused, small smiles on their lips at the sense of déjà vu that overcame them.

Ruth stepped forward into his embrace and pressed her body against his, kissing him with all of the passion he'd instilled in her. Words became action; kisses and hesitant touches turned into burning, scorching lust and need. In short order, they found themselves tangled in a knot – he was licking her and teasing her desperately, and she was lavishing his erection with all of the attention of a multi-lingual tongue. They weren't fumbling anymore; she knew all of his erogenous zones, and he hers. They were both quick to slip into old habits of remembrance.

Her orgasm slammed into her hard, making her forget his pleasure in the heat of the moment, focusing only on her moment of oblivious bliss. As soon as she recovered, she went in for the kill; she loved the taste, the feel of him in her mouth, and he clearly loved the way she worshiped him.

"Yes, Ruth, please," he begged, his whisper low and hoarse. She knew he was close, and she continued on until he exploded in her mouth with a deep groan. "Fuck, Ruth, that mouth –"

She maneuvered herself out of the 69 position and kissed her way up his body until she met his lips. "These lips have never done that to anyone but you," she promised softly.

He moaned and kissed her back, and they both lost themselves in the soft, fuzzy feelings for a few minutes as they cuddled.

He glanced at her clock and sighed. "I should go home," he said quietly. "So you don't have to explain my presence to your mother and the girls in the morning."

"Don't go yet," she whispered, cuddling up to him. She liked his warmth, his bulk, the solidness of him against her. She'd been alone far too long.

"Soon," he agreed. "Not yet."

She woke up around three and he was gone; the only trace of him was the lingering scent of him on her pillow and the sheets. But he'd been there, and they'd done… that…

And she hid a sleepy smile as she rolled over and inhaled his musk on the pillow.

END PART EIGHT


	9. Chapter 9

Nine:  
Decimation

She was running late; Daisy had woken up with a fever (but it had gone down with medicine), one of the cats had left a trail of mouse bits across the kitchen, the car had decided not to start, and just as she was finally making it through the pods, Ruth's phone rang. "Hello?" she snapped after she fumbled for the phone.

"Hello, Mrs. Evershed, this is DCI Jameson from Cheltenham North…"

"Uh, yes, what can I help you with, sir?" Ruth asked, settling in at her desk.

"We received a report of a foul odor emanating from the house that you and your husband own in Cheltenham from one of the neighbors," Jameson said cautiously.

"Oh, was it Mrs. Randolph? She's a right snoop," Ruth sighed, starting in on the pile of files.

"We found a body in the house; it is your husband, based on dental records, but I need you to come identify the corpse."

Ruth said, "Are you – I just – I spoke to him on the phone a couple of days ago. Can you send me photos? I'm in London and I –"

"Mrs. Evershed, the manner of death is quite…"

"I just got to work," she said. "I'll… I'll get there somehow. Thank you for calling." She hung up and just sat there, staring at the pile of things in front of her.

"Ruth, briefing," Zoe said.

Ruth looked up at her and nodded, picking up the files and following her mutely into the conference room. She organized her files and made no comment when Harry said, "I'm thrilled you decided to join us, Ruth –"

The briefing was almost over when Ruth realized she hadn't heard a word of it, and everyone was looking at her. Her face flushed and she murmured, "I'm sorry, I – my mind is somewhere else. What were you saying?"

"Ruth, you haven't heard a thing?" Danny asked.

Harry was looking at her with some concern, and she shoved the files into the center of the table. "I'm sure you can find something in there," she said, "to answer your questions. I – I need to go." She stood up.

"You can't just leave," Tom said. "Sit down."

She heard the implied threat in his tone and did just as he ordered. She tried to focus, but it was nearly impossible. Everyone took a file from her pile and began skimming. Her hands were shaking so hard she dropped hers, with a loud curse of, "THING!" And when she tried to fix things, she cut her finger wide open on the file binder itself.

She got up and raced out of the room, to her desk, grabbing her coat and her purse. Harry was right behind her, and he said, "RUTH –"

"I have to go, Harry – I have to go now," she said.

"Ruth, tell me what's going on," he implored. Tom and Zoe appeared behind him, followed by Danny. "Please – what's wrong?"

"Everything," Ruth whispered. "Everything's wrong – I have to go. I have to get to Cheltenham." She didn't mean to be deliberately misleading, or deliberately oblique, but she couldn't use her words at the moment. Everything was a jumble in her head and everything she might have said kept coming to her in Greek, then resolved itself in French.

"Ruth, what happened?" Danny asked.

She began hesitantly, her words tumbling over themselves in French, faster and faster as she spat them out, her voice raising and her heart breaking a thousand times as the others looked at her with blank expressions. Sam came out of nowhere and said, "Her husband is dead. They need her to ID the body. She's had the bloody worst morning and her car won't start, so she's got to take a train and she doesn't know if she's got enough money on her for a ticket."

Ruth's shoulders slumped in defeat and she shrugged her coat on. "Harry, I'm sorry, but I've got to go," she insisted, her voice low and hoarse after her outburst. "I'm of no use to you right now."

"How are you going to get there?" Tom asked.

"I don't know," Ruth sighed. "I just – I have to –"

Harry sighed. "You have to go," he supplied.

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"What about your children?" Zoe spoke up. "Aren't they in school?"

Ruth blanched, feeling suddenly ill and upset and not knowing how she could possibly break it to the girls that their father was dead. "Yes – I – I don't know."

Malcolm spoke up softly, "Ruth, I can pick them up from school and they can spend the night at mine with Mother and I if you don't make it back on time."

She looked at him gratefully. "Oh, Malcolm, they would love that –"

Harry said, "Tom, do you think you can manage without me for a day?"

"Harry, no, you can't," Ruth protested. "You're needed here."

"We'll manage," Tom said. "I'll take your meetings today."

"Harry," Ruth said. "No –"

He shook his head and said, "Ruth, you need a ride and there's no reason to fret about a train when I have a perfectly good saloon in the car park."

"Yes, but –"

Zoe interjected, "Harry just doesn't think you should be driving when you're upset. I can't say I blame him. I wouldn't want to go that far by myself after someone close to me died –"

Ruth nodded stiffly, seeing her point. "All right," she finally said.

Harry went to his office and got his things, then met her by the pods. "Ruth, I'm sorry," Danny spoke up. "For your loss, I mean."

"Don't be," she said. "He was a bastard."

* * *

She looked at the body, frowning for a long time. There was a hole through his head and she regarded it dispassionately. It was definitely Gareth, and she felt the urge to kick him. "Yes," she said, her tone clipped. "This is Gareth Patrick Evershed." She paused. "How did he die?"

"Self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head," the coroner said simply. "Jameson wants to ask you some questions if you feel able."

She nodded. "Yes, of course," she said. "But my boss stays in the room with me."

"Right," Harry agreed.

"Jameson is waiting outside," the coroner said, gesturing at the door.

Harry put his arm around her protectively as they walked through to the corridor. Ruth wanted to lean against him, but to do so was to invite speculation about their relationship and she knew she shouldn't so soon after Gareth's death.

"Mrs. Evershed, I'm DCI Richard Jameson," a man said. "I just need to ask you a few questions."

"Routine or specific?" Harry spoke up.

"Sir, I don't think –"

"Harry Pearce, Security Services," Harry said firmly. "Ruth Evershed is my employee and as such, I must be in her presence for all police inquiries due to the Official Secrets Act."

Ruth sighed. "Can I get a cup of tea, please? Or something?"

"Of course, Mrs. Evershed – Nancy, can you get a cup of tea for Mrs. Evershed, please? We'll be in my office."

Once she was settled in a comfortable chair, Jameson said, "As you've seen, your husband died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head sometime on Wednesday evening. Had you been in contact with him recently? Public records have your divorce finalized 17 days from today –"

"I spoke to him on Tuesday," Ruth said quietly. "He'd just gotten fired for losing over ten million pounds in one failed venture. He was, understandably, rather upset. We argued about whether or not we should go through with the divorce, and he made the comment that I'd be better off if he just died. I didn't realize he meant to do it."

"Had he made any plans to see you or your children?" Jameson asked.

She sighed. "He kept making plans and breaking them. The girls have stopped expecting him to appear."

"As a matter of formality, I have to enquire as to your whereabouts on Wednesday evening," Jameson said in an apologetic tone.

"I had choir practice," Ruth said automatically. "In London. About forty people can corroborate that, not including my daughters – they were in the pews, listening and playing Nintendo DS."

Jameson nodded, scribbled a few notes, and said, "In light of what looks to be a suicide, we're ready to close the file and release your husband's body to the funeral parlor of your choice."

"I… I don't know," Ruth said. "I'm sorry, I haven't ever had to plan a funeral –"

"How about we send him to Fellers?" Jameson suggested. "It's the one that we use for police and military funerals."

She nodded. "All right," she agreed.

Harry passed his card to Jameson. "Any other enquiries should be directed to me first," he said firmly. He led Ruth out of the police station into the sunshine, and said, "Are you all right?"

She shrugged and said, "I can't believe he'd just kill himself."

"It sounds like he had reason," Harry said with a sigh. "His marriage was ending, his job was gone –"

She frowned. "Don't defend him."

"I'm not defending anyone."

She reached over and held his hand. "It just seems… pointless and selfish. Like he couldn't think about his children or what it would do to them."

"Ruth, when you're in that dark place, nothing matters but making the darkness go away," Harry said softly. "He did what he thought he must."

"Maybe so," she murmured, "but what do I tell the girls? He's dead and he didn't care what happened to them? How it would hurt them?" She shook her head. "My father died when I was Rose's age."

"My mother died when I was about that age, too," Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, Ruth –"

"No, don't be," she said. "I just – I worry about them. They're my children and they've been all I've had to worry over for a long time. I love them and I want them happy and healthy," she added.

"You're the best mum I've ever seen," he said gently. "But every child must grow up sooner or later. You can't hide them from life, Ruth."

She nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. "I need to go by the house," she said quietly. "I'm sure we'll have to start packing things and cleaning and getting everything ready to be sold, but the girls will want some of their things."

"Of course," he said. "And then we can start back to London –"

"I need to go tell mum, too. So she can help with the funeral."

Harry stopped and she kept going, snapping back when she realized he'd stopped. "Ruth, he wasn't a good man, but he was your husband. You haven't shed a tear –"

She said, "He raped me. Do you think he's going to paradise for it? Because I'm glad he's dead. He can't hurt me again, Harry."

Harry sighed. "That isn't true – you live with the knowledge that you survived every day with him," he pointed out. "You'll never forget."

"No," she agreed. "I won't forget."

* * *

Harry followed her into the spacious front room, looking at the huge paintings and expensive pieces of art in the waning light. She flipped a switch and light flooded the room. She flinched, seeing blood and brains blown out all over a Ming vase and the white wall. "God," she breathed. "I need to get the cleaners in here – the rug needs to go and…"

"I'll make arrangements," Harry promised.

"You don't have to."

He sighed. "Ruth –"

"I'm going to go upstairs and get the things for the girls," she said. "And then we can go."

She whirled around the bedrooms, gathering things in plastic bin bags. She eventually sat down in the middle of Rose's bedroom and just cried. She cried for what had happened and what hadn't happened. She cried for what seemed like forever, but then it was over.

Ruth looked up and saw Harry in the doorway. She swiped at her eyes and murmured, "I'm ready to go now."

"Ruth, I am sorry –"

She nodded and sighed. "Me, too," she whispered. "For so many things, I am sorry."

END PART NINE


	10. Chapter 10

Ten:  
Unsaid Words

"Well, this is a surprise indeed," Harry said a bit sarcastically.

"Birthday boy gets to open the bubbly," Zoe said with a grin, holding up a couple bottles of wine. "We all chipped in on the party, so god knows we're drinking and not eating."

Ruth smiled as Harry popped the cork on the champagne and immediately poured a glass and handed it off to her. "Daisy called earlier just to remind me to tell you happy birthday," she said.

"Well, you'll have to tell her thank you from me," Harry said.

Sam chuckled and said, "Harry, how is it you know Ruth's kids better than your own?"

Harry glared at her, and the Scotswoman went a little pale. "Ruth's children are charming, whereas mine are too much like me," he grunted.

Ruth smiled. "By the way, they've been baking all afternoon with the nanny – something about a cake for Mister Harry," she said murmured.

"Oh dear," Harry laughed. "That bodes ill for my waistline, doesn't it?"

"That's assuming the girls don't eat it all before I can get it here in the morning," Ruth replied with a smile.

Harry looked like he was struggling for a moment, then said, "Tell them thank you."

She finished off her drink and smiled. "Now, that's me off – laundry to do, kids to put to bed, dragons to slay." She stood on her tip-toes and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek. "Have a good night. Happy birthday."

"Oh-ho, someone's sweet on the boss," Danny teased.

"Not at all," Ruth said. "I'd kiss your smarmy gob if it were your birthday, just to make everyone laugh."

Harry smiled and said, "She would at that."

Ruth smiled at him and grabbed her things, heading off the Grid.

* * *

"We ended up making cupcakes so we wouldn't spoil dinner," Ginny said with a smile.

"Mister Harry can have little cakes," Daisy said cheerfully.

"What's for dinner then?" Ruth asked.

"We made stew," Rose said.

"Is your homework done?" Rose nodded vigorously. "Well, then, I'm glad Ginny's a good influence on you two –"

Ginny laughed. "It's just my job, Ruth."

"Well, you're quite good at it," Ruth replied. "What do you think, girls? Shall we keep Ginny on?"

"Oh, yes please," Daisy said. "And can Mister Harry marry you and be our new daddy, please?"

Ruth choked on the water she was swallowing. "Margaret Eloise Evershed!" she spluttered.

"What, mummy?"

"You can't just… ask questions like that."

"But, mummy – "

"No but mummy," Ruth snapped. "Harry likes you and your sister very much," she said, "but that doesn't mean he likes me or feels anything for me at all. We're friends."

Rose mumbled, "Friends don't kiss like THAT, mum."

"What?"

"I saw you and Harry in the garden," Rose said simply.

Ruth just stared at her, her jaw dropping slightly – then she recovered. "Well… Harry's been helping me with everything since your dad died and –"

"And what? Mum, I know about sex," Rose said. "And it's not fair of you to lie and say you and Mister Harry are just friends when you're not."

Ruth felt a little light-headed, being lectured by a twelve year old about her relationship with another man. "Harry and I are complicated," she tried to explain. But her daughter was having none of it.

"No, you're not."

For her part, Daisy had gotten very quiet and was just watching them. And Ginny was very carefully avoiding having to say anything by washing dishes.

"Bloody hell," Ruth sighed, sitting down. "I wasn't expecting to have this conversation today –"

"Do you like Mister Harry, mummy?" Daisy asked.

"Yes, of course I do," Ruth said. "He's a good man."

"Then why don't you want to marry him?"

"Well, for one thing," Ruth said, "he hasn't asked me to marry him. And for another, it's too soon since your dad died. It's not proper."

"But you like him –"

"I liked your dad," Ruth sighed. "And we got married and had you two and everything went pear-shaped."

"You didn't love dad?" Rose asked softly.

Ruth paused, picking at the tablecloth with her fingers, trying to figure out how to answer. "I did love your dad," she finally said. "But it wasn't the kind of love that people dream about. He was my best friend and I wanted him to be happy."

"Why did you marry him if you didn't love him?" Rose asked, confused.

Ruth smiled sadly. "You know your dad was gay, right?"

Rose nodded, but Daisy said, "What's gay, mum?"

Ginny interrupted. "Mrs. E, I'm going to go take a shower, okay?"

Ruth nodded, grateful that the nanny was trying to be discreet about things. "Okay, Ginny – thank you." She waited till Ginny was out of the room before she looked at her daughters. "Gay means if you're a boy, you like boys and not girls. If you're a girl, you like girls and not boys."

Daisy frowned. "Okay, but – if daddy was gay, why did he want to marry you? Why didn't he marry a boy?"

"Because it's not legal," Ruth said quietly, "for men to marry men and women to marry women. Not really. That's why daddy always had friends over and mummy slept in her room."

"But you had us," Rose said. "How, if dad was gay?"

Ruth sighed. "Your dad wanted to marry me because I didn't ask a lot of questions and I'd just let him be who he was because he was my best friend and I didn't want to change him. He wanted kids of his own, and I wanted to give him that chance." She smiled sadly. "I'm glad I did because I have you."

"Mummy, why don't I look like daddy?" Daisy asked. "Sissy looks like you and daddy, but I just look like you a little –"

Ruth sighed again; this conversation was trying her patience and the very limits of her self-control. "Because sometimes, you don't look like your parents. Genetics is a mixed bag – sometimes, you look like someone who died a long time ago, and sometimes you don't look like anyone at all."

Daisy frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

"Life doesn't make sense," Ruth said, "often times."

"Well, I think if you love Mister Harry, you should marry him and he should live with us," Daisy said. "That makes sense, doesn't it? You do love Mister Harry, don't you?"

Rose leaned forward, listening intently.

"Maybe I do," Ruth said quietly, "but that doesn't mean that he does me or that we shan't break apart like dad and I did."

"You should tell him you love him," Daisy said. "Call him and say so."

"It's not that simple," Ruth said.

"Adults make everything so hard," Rose complained.

"We have a lot more to worry about than you do," Ruth said gently. "Like keeping food on the table, and babies, and washing machines and…"

"I don't want to grow up," Daisy announced. "It sounds dreadful and stupid."

Rose giggled. "Mum…"

"Hmm?"

"You should tell Mister Harry how you feel. Maybe he feels that way and you don't know it, too," Rose said quietly. "And it's his birthday – you didn't get him a present, did you?"

Ruth smiled a little. "We all chipped in at work and got him a bottle of whiskey."

Rose wrinkled her nose. "Ew. What an awful gift."

"Harry loved it," Ruth said.

"I'm hungry," Daisy protested. "Can we eat dinner now?"

"Yes, of course," Ruth said, glad that, hopefully, the interrogation was at an end. She couldn't very well tell them that she and Harry – in the four months since Gareth's death – had told each other how they felt and had decided to keep it hidden, even from the girls. She couldn't tell them how much she loved him; she couldn't tell them how much he loved her. She couldn't tell them anything more than she already had. "Let's get the bowls down and get some bread from the breadbox."

Ginny rejoined them a bit later; Harry had helped with picking a nanny, having had her vetted within an inch of her life. She was one of the MI-5 sleeper agents, but she was a damn fine nanny and her last position had been in helping bring down a powerful man who had been doing very naughty things to undermine the government. Harry had had no qualms in having her care for Daisy – and by extension, Rose – and the live-in position made it so if Ruth was red flashed and brought in to work, someone was there to mind the girls. They adored Ginny and treated her like a big sister, rather than the hired help.

"So, I thought we could watch a movie tonight before bed," Ginny said, "since it's Friday and there's no school tomorrow."

"I've got to go in to work for a bit in the morning," Ruth said.

Rose frowned. "You promised we would go out to the museum tomorrow," she whined.

"Yes, and we will," Ruth promised. "But I've got to do a bit of paperwork – it won't take me long, love, and then we'll be off."

"I can take them," Ginny said, "and you can meet us there."

"No, MUM is meant to take us," Rose said tetchily.

Ruth was saved from the unpleasant diversion by the doorbell ringing. "I'll be right back," she said. She rushed through and peered through the lens, unwittingly smiling when she realized who it was. She opened the door and murmured, "I should just give you a key and the alarm codes."

"Is it too soon for that?" Harry asked, pulling her close for a kiss.

"I've had the most… mmm… awful… conversation with my children about us," she breathed through the gentle kisses.

"I came for my cake," he teased, pulling away, "but you're distracting me."

"Come have some stew," she invited. "It's really rather good. It's not Peppen's or the Savoy, but it will do for a good birthday dinner."

"I'd rather eat stew with you and the girls than go out alone," he agreed with a small smile. "And then cake."

"They made cupcakes," Ruth said with a smile. "Chocolate with pink icing. I don't know why pink."

"Good thing I enjoy pink," Harry said as she let him in.

"Girls, Harry's here for his cupcakes," Ruth called. "Ginny, can we get another bowl and spoon down?"

Daisy tore out of the kitchen, practically bouncing with excitement. "Mister Harry, Mister Harry, happy birthday!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

Harry hugged the girl in return and smiled down at her. "Thank you, Daisy –"

"We made you cupcakes!"

"Yes, your mum told me that," Harry said.

"And we're having stew for supper – it's very delicious." Daisy paused. "Are you going to stay, Mister Harry? Only, if you do, we haven't got a spare bed anymore because Ginny's here now."

If Harry was caught off-guard by Daisy's forwardness, he didn't show it. "If I stay, I'll sleep on the couch," he said in a mild tone.

"But you could sleep in mummy's bed – you like her, don't you? Adults who like each other share rooms," Daisy said firmly.

"You are incorrigible," Ruth said, her face flushed bright red. "I thought we were done talking about this."

"Yes, but Mister Harry is here now," Daisy pointed out. "And if he likes you, he should say so. Do you like mummy, Mister Harry?"

"I do," Harry said.

"Do you want to marry my mummy?"

Harry glanced over at Ruth, as if he suddenly understood what she'd meant only minutes before. "Daisy," he said gently, cautiously, "your mum and I need time to figure out what we want from each other before we make a decision like that. We've only known each other since you moved to London – that's not very long."

"Yes, but true love is on first sight!" Daisy insisted.

Ruth shook her head. "That's just in fairy stories, love," she said softly. "In real life, you have to work hard to make things work. It's not all happily ever after."

Daisy pouted a little. "Oh," she said quietly. She looked just like Harry when she did that, and it made Ruth worry that someone else would see it and realize.

"Come on, let's get you some dinner," Ruth said gently to Harry. "Did you drive over after all that drink?"

"No, I had Mike drive me," Harry said.

"And then I'll drive you home," Ruth supplied.

"Or I could stay and partake in your Saturday activities –"

"We're going to the museum tomorrow," Daisy said. "Mummy promised."

"Oh, then, I should love to come if your mum will allow it," Harry said with a smile. "I love the museum."

"Will you come?" Daisy asked eagerly. "Mummy, can he come?"

"Of course he can," Ruth said softly. "If he stays over, he can come with us to the museum –"

"And I'll take you all out for a nice dinner after," Harry promised with a smile.

"Oh, goody!" Daisy cried, running into the kitchen to tell her sister.

"Thank you for not going mad with anger," Ruth said softly, reaching over to hold Harry's hand for a moment. "They were interrogating me like proper agents. I almost slipped a couple of times and told them the truth."

He gave her a quick kiss. "I'd love to stay over… in your bed… and go to the museum with you and your children on the morrow." Harry paused. "Is that too forward of me?"

"No," she murmured. "It's your birthday, after all, and you're allowed a few liberties." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I do, you know."

"You do?"

"The thing we don't talk about," she said with a little smile. "I really do." After the first time they'd really said it, really meant that they loved one another, it had been filed away and not said again. It was too soon. Too much. Too big. Too frightening.

"I really do, too," he said softly, squeezing her hand, then releasing it. He took off his coat and put it on the empty hook.

END PART TEN


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven:  
Moment of Truth

Ruth didn't know what to expect when Tom requested she meet him out on a bench on the Embankment. The last time, it had been to accuse her of duplicitous behavior, but she'd outplayed him with Harry's help. This time, she was properly frightened it could be something much worse.

So when he asked her, "How long have you and Harry been shagging on the sly?" it was almost a relief.

"Harry and I are complicated," Ruth murmured.

"Oh, I'd say it's pretty simple and straightforward," Tom said. "You clearly want to get ahead in this business and he's conveniently unattached and has some affection toward you – so you slept with him to secure your employment within the department."

Ruth shook her head. "No, not at all," she murmured. "Work and personal are two totally different things –"

Tom snorted. "You can't even keep your kids from calling the Grid," he pointed out.

"Yes, well, kids will be kids and they're little beings with their own minds and motivations," she scoffed dismissively. "Harry and I can control ourselves." She paused. "By the way, how did you find out? We've been very careful…"

"Harry has a key to your house, on a chain that has a photo of you and the girls," Tom said. "That's not something you do unless you're in a relationship. So how long has this been going on? I need to know how impaired his judgment is, Ruth. How… close you are to him. Has he let slip details of operations across your pillows at night? Does he share state secrets when you –"

"What do you take me for?" she shot back furiously. "A common slut?"

"What hold do you have over him that's so strong that he'd risk everything to be with you, Ruth?" Tom challenged. "You're not particularly gorgeous – I've seen some of Harry's tarts, and you don't fit the mold. You're too smart for your own good and –"

"I don't have a bloody hold over him," Ruth spat angrily. "This isn't something tawdry or awful, Tom, no matter what you think." She shook her head and closed her eyes.

"Then tell me what I want to know."

"Why, so you can use it against me?" she snapped. "So you can use it to hurt Harry when he won't let you have your way?"

"So that I can help you –"

"I don't need your help," Ruth said. "There's no reason at all why I should confess my 'sins' to you."

"I can have you removed from the Section," Tom said.

"You wouldn't –" She paused, staring at him. "You wouldn't, would you? Tom, please don't –"

"How long, Ruth?"

Ruth fought an internal battle and lost. "Seven months," she mumbled.

"You've only been here nine months," Tom said accusingly.

"Yes, well, that's how bloody long Harry and I have been shagging, so what's the point?" she snapped, feeling very irritated and self-conscious.

"The point is that it's very dangerous for the two of you to be together –"

She sighed and shook her head. "That just isn't true," Ruth said. "We've been good about keeping us separate from work things."

"And what happens if he goes out on an operation and gets himself hurt or abducted – or worse?" Tom asked. "What then, Ruth?"

She glared at him. "I told you what you wanted to know, Tom. Now butt out –"

"Why Harry?" Tom asked suddenly. "If it's not the power or the position, why Harry Pearce?"

"Because," she said, "he's Harry Pearce. It's just that simple, Tom."

"Harry Pearce is a liar and a snake in the grass – he will sell your soul if he thought it would get him something…"

"Don't you dare talk about him like that," she hissed. "Don't you dare, Tom Quinn."

"He doesn't love you, Ruth, no matter what he says," Tom said, his voice low. "How do you think he's successful at his job? He lies. He always lies."

"Stop," she whispered. "Please."

"As soon as he's tired of you, he's going to throw you over and move on –"

"STOP!" she begged. "Tom, please – god, please – don't – just stop."

"If I stop, will you answer me a simple question?"

"Yes, anything, please –"

Tom nodded. "Do you love him?"

She paused. "What?"

"Do you love him? It's a simple enough question."

"The answer isn't simple at all," she said.

"It's either yes or no."

She looked at him for a long time, then said, "I can't answer that."

"If I were to kiss you, to try to change your mind about him –"

"You couldn't, you wouldn't," she said stubbornly.

"I would."

She flinched and confessed, "Fine – I love him. I do."

"And what's your hold on him?" Tom asked.

"I haven't got a thing on him," Ruth said very quietly. "Not a damn thing."

"Do you really think I can't break you, Ruth?" Tom's voice was low and dangerous. "Do you think I want to be this man; the one who hurts you because you're too damn stubborn to realize you're in terrible danger? Do you want me to hurt you?"

"You already have," she hissed. "But I guess that doesn't matter, does it? You don't actually care about anyone's feelings – just what you want to know."

"Your feelings are irrelevant," he said.

"No, they aren't. My feelings, my instincts, are what keep you safe out there on operations. But you never thought of that, did you? How many times have my guts pulled you back and kept you alive? No, you just don't care."

"If I figured it out, who's to say that Six hasn't figured it out? Who's to say that someone higher up hasn't already decided to use you like a piece of meat to bring Harry or Section D to its knees?" he shot back. "You're playing a dangerous game, Ruth, and you don't even know where the other pieces are on the board." He frowned and said, "I can help you, but I need to know the truth, Ruth."

She hesitated a moment, then said, "We don't talk about work off the Grid. We talk about the girls, us, stupid things… but not work. He doesn't bring anything work-related to mine, and I don't go to his. We don't really do much pillow talk." She blushed a little. "I know you don't believe me when I say that I have no hold over him, but it's true, Tom: he wants to be there. He wouldn't be there if he didn't want to be."

"Has he asked you to marry him? Move in with him?"

Ruth shook her head. "No, and I wouldn't even if he asked," she said very quietly. "I've got to think about the girls – uprooting them and moving them around and things would be very upsetting for them so soon after Gareth's death."

"Do you put your children first all the time?" he asked, his tone softening.

She nodded and murmured, "They were all I really had for so long; I'm not happy unless they're at least content."

"Ruth, all these questions and more would come up at a disciplinary hearing or a personnel review," Tom said quietly. "And any hesitation in answering them would be disastrous for you. Harry's position is relatively secure: yours is not."

She looked over at him and said, "Are the winds blowing that way?"

"Not yet, but no one can tell the future," he said with a small sigh. "Now, will you tell me the truth about what hold you have on Harry, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?"

"I'm not lying," she said, "when I say I have no hold over him. We have a secret that we share, but it's not my place to tell anyone anything."

"You must really love him to hide his secrets," Tom said warily.

"It's not just his secret to hide," she murmured, looking away from him, unwilling to let him see how upset she was. "All you need know is that he'd met me before. Harry had just finished an operation called Straight Run involving a group of school children and a pedophile teacher who was turning his victims into suicidal lunatics intent on murdering their families. It involved a young woman whose father was, at that time, a primary military advisor to the PM. It was ugly. And we met at a pub." She was fiddling with the sash on her coat, feeling dirty for even talking to him about it. "We're complicated, us. I was married, he was… he was Harry. And it was over within a couple of days. That's all. That's our big secret."

Tom was very quiet, then said, "That's what Harry said you might say."

She blinked, hurting her neck with how fast her head turned. "What?"

"Harry asked me to do this," he sighed. "To find out what you might tell someone about your relationship. I know about your daughter: he told me. He also told me everything you might say about your relationship when you finally cracked. You've done well."

She whirled on him, punching him hard in the shoulder. "You're a bastard, Tom Quinn – a right piece of work!" Ruth cried.

"No angry words for Harry, then?" Tom asked, his lips curling in amusement.

"Harry's going to get his," she growled.

"Ruth, he's concerned –"

"He can tell me his concerns," she snapped, "rather than sending you to interrogate me. It smacks of not trusting your partner."

"Are you partners, then?" Tom asked.

"If we might have been, we're bloody well not now," Ruth huffed. "Go tell your master that I'm not coming back from lunch today and he can bloody well sit in his stew till I choose to let him off the hook."

In reality, she was furious in a way that defied explanation. She shouldn't have been nearly so angry, but it hurt so deeply that Harry still didn't trust her to be careful with their relationship. She knew the risks; she'd even come up with a few he hadn't thought of. But still, this humiliation was laid out on her lap. All it needed was a bright red bow and a card labeled 'Are you ashamed of yourself yet?'

She got home a little bit before the kids were due to arrive home from school and saw that Ginny was making fresh cookies and was reading one of Ruth's many books.

"Oh, hello," Ginny said. "You're home rather early…"

"If Harry comes by, tell him to go rot," Ruth said sharply. "I need to be alone for a while, please."

"Oh god, what did he do?"

Ruth shook her head and said, "I don't want to talk about it."

By the time she came down for dinner, she'd decided it wasn't worth her time to play into Harry's paranoid delusions. If he was so concerned about them being together… maybe it was time for them to take a few steps back and re-evaluate their relationship.

"Mummy, Mister Harry's in the sitting room," Daisy said. "He says he's not leaving till you talk to him. I tried to give him supper but he's not hungry."

Ruth looked over at Ginny, who shrugged and said, "He wouldn't go and I'm not going to call the coppers just because he wants to talk to you."

Ruth nodded and said, "Okay, fine –"

"Mum, Mister Harry is really upset," Rose said quietly. "He's been crying in there."

Ruth paused and closed her eyes, feeling suddenly guilty. "Okay, well, I'll go take care of it," she murmured. "You two finish your dinners." She gave each child a kiss on the top of the head, then headed to the sitting room.

Harry was sitting in her reading chair, the curtains drawn, the lights off. She could just barely see him in the dim light. "I thought you'd never come down," he said, his voice gruff with barely suppressed emotion.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I told Tom to tell you to stay away from me, since obviously you want an excuse to break this, us, apart."

"You don't understand," he began, then fell silent.

"No, I don't," she replied, "and I'm not sure I want to understand."

"There are rumblings," Harry said, "about investigating Section D at a fundamental level. We operate outside the general chain of command and –"

"I don't care about the politics," she said dismissively. "If anything happens, I'll disavow our relationship. I can lie, too –"

"You give yourself away almost every time," he said with a heavy sigh. "Ruth, I can't put you and the girls in danger because I've been stupid enough to let something slip when we – when we make love."

"You haven't," she said. "You won't."

"Ruth, this is serious –"

"You could have told me that you wanted to break it off," she said sharply, "rather than doing all of this to pull the wool over my eyes before you kicked me in the teeth."

He was up out of the chair and before she knew what was happening, he had hauled her tightly against him. She could feel him, solid and warm, against her, and she closed her eyes to avoid looking at him. "I don't want to break anything off," he growled. "And I'm not kicking you in the teeth – god's balls, Ruth, do you think I want you to get hurt? I'm trying to protect you – I'm trying to prepare you. You're not naïve but you're not prepared for Internal Affairs to interrogate you, either. You broke for Tom faster than I thought you would – and that terrifies me. They won't hesitate to push you to the limit and beyond and when they're through, you'll have nothing left."

She swallowed hard and murmured, "I'll have you."

He shook his head. "If you're thrown out of the Service, Ruth, we can't see each other again until I retire. Do you understand? We'll never be together again. Do you understand why I'm so frightened?" His grip on her was beginning to hurt. "I can't let that happen."

She exhaled and murmured, "Harry, you're hurting me."

He immediately let go and backed away. "Ruth, I –"

"I love you," she said simply. "Maybe it would be easier if I didn't."

He flinched visibly. "Don't say that."

"We've come too far to stop this now," she said very quietly. "So maybe the only way to redeem this in a way that IA will understand is to do something drastic." The wheels in her head were turning, faster and faster, spinning into oblivion until they suddenly stopped. "Harry, we have to get married."

He was absolutely silent. Without any warning, he spluttered, "What?"

"Internal Affairs can't touch us if we're married; any work-related topics would be covered under their rules for testifying against your spouse in a court of law," she pointed out. "And we'd be able to quietly tell people that Daisy was your daughter, and tell the story of how we met without incriminating ourselves."

"Ruth, you're conveniently forgetting that I'm a heartless bastard whose first marriage exploded –"

"Harry, you're looking for a way out of the possible nightmare scenario and I'm giving it to you. We get married and keep a house together. Otherwise, they will find a way and a reason to split us apart and kick me back to GCHQ."

"You told Tom –"

"I know what I told Tom, and I know what I told myself," she said very quietly. "And I was wrong. All right? I was wrong to think we could step back from the abyss rather than just taking a leap of faith and falling into it together. Okay?" She reached out and took his hand. "Harry, I love you and if the worst comes to pass, I can't… I can't imagine life without you. I don't want to." Ruth knew she was pushing her luck, but she murmured, "Please don't make me even think about it. Marry me, Harry, please."

"Is this all just to avoid an IA scandal?" he asked, his tone rough. She saw tears in his eyes, running down his face, the drops catching the dim light and shining, and she wondered if she'd broken him, if Harry wasn't Harry any longer.

"No," Ruth whispered. "No, Harry, I want this. I do. This is… maybe the inevitable conclusion, but that doesn't mean that I want it any less. I'm tired of sneaking around and secrecy where we're concerned. I want to be able to stand by you at official functions and say that I'm married to that man right there and he's not going to dance with you, you shameless hussy." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Ask me, Harry – I know you've wanted to. Ask me."

"Do you love me?" he whispered.

Ruth nodded and gently drew him down so she could wipe his tears away. "I do," she whispered. "So very much. Do you love me?"

"Yes," he croaked, his voice choking on a bit of a sob. "Ruth… will you marry me?"

She smiled and whispered, "Absolutely."

"I haven't got a ring –"

"Doesn't matter if we ever have them," she murmured. "If we're together here," she said, putting her hand on his heart, and his on hers, "then that's all that matters. That and the piece of paper that says we're Mr. and Mrs. Pearce." She put her arms around him and held on tight. "We don't have to disclose that we're wed to our colleagues – it would just be in our files and IA wouldn't be able to pull us apart. There's no reason for anyone else to know until we're ready to tell them."

"I don't care," he whispered. "I want to shout it from the mountaintop that I love you and that you want to marry me – even if it means upsetting the apple cart."

She gave him a gentle kiss. "I love you," she murmured. "Now, stupid man, you've probably not eaten all day. Ginny made a full English breakfast for dinner, so come on."

Much later, much much later, when they were wrapped up in her bed, tightly tucked up in the blankets and each other, she wondered if they were making a selfish, foolish mistake – or if it was going to be okay.

END PART ELEVEN


	12. Chapter 12

Twelve:  
Adjustments

She took the afternoon off for 'teacher conference', and he claimed a meeting with an asset. No one questioned either of them, which was good, because they were buggering off to get married at the registry office, quick as you please. Their witnesses were the couple who were meant to go after them, an older lady and gentleman who had obviously decided that waiting any longer for love was akin to death – and they looked old enough to drop off at any moment.

There were no rings; it was safer that way. Ruth didn't need a ring to know that her heart was bound to Harry's, and his to hers. It only took one look from him to confirm it; he softened around the edges when he looked at her with pride and love. She hid a tiny smile as she twined her fingers with his and murmured their legal vows, as did he. Inasmuch as they were doing this to protect one another, they really did want to take a step toward making everything permanent.

This was as permanent as it got.

After the Firestorm incident, Harry had gathered his things and moved… into Ruth's house. It was an adjustment, and to their credit, it didn't phase Rose and Daisy in the slightest. They thought it was bully having Harry over all the time, and were quite excited when he got home in time for dinner. Ruth thought that someday, they would have to actually tell them that they were more than just boyfriend and girlfriend, but… that day seemed far away.

Their lips met and they smiled at one another, having taken that monumental leap into nothingness and having survived the fall.

"Now," Harry said softly, his voice rough around the edges, "Mrs. Pearce, we need to be good and witness for them, and then we can go back to work."

"We'll have to take separate cabs," she pointed out.

"I don't care," he replied. "Back to work and saving the world after this."

"No offense, but this was the best lunch I've ever had," Ruth teased, smiling and giving him another light kiss.

"Me, too," he agreed, squeezing her hand.

* * *

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?" Danny asked Ruth.

"Mmm," she replied noncommittally, "I've just got the last auction of the art from Gareth's estate on Saturday. Why?"

"No reason – Harry doesn't seem to have plans either."

"Yes, well, since he's living in my house, his plans usually involve the girls in some manner," Ruth said quietly. "I'm actually glad of the help."

"I still don't understand why he'd move in with you instead of finding a new place –"

Ruth looked at him and said, "It's too much work looking for a house that you can modify with high enough security to appease Harry and since mine was already done, it seemed logical to move him into my house for the time being. But is it really any of your business?"

"Well… no, but isn't it awkward having the boss underfoot?" Danny asked, wrinkling his nose. "Don't you need some private time and space?"

She tried not to blush; she wasn't sure if she succeeded or if she failed spectacularly. "Ah, yes, well… Harry has his space and I have mine," she hedged a bit. "It's not that awkward, except when he comes in at three in the morning. Then it can be quite so with him bumping around in the dark."

Danny laughed. "Why don't you leave a light on, then?" he asked.

She gave him a dirty look. "Oh, shush your gob," she snapped. "Yes, it's a bit awkward."

"What's a bit awkward?" Harry asked as he came over to Ruth's desk, a file in hand.

"Living with the boss," Danny said. "Do you leave your dirty clothes out and about, Harry, or are you a straight into the wash man?"

Harry and Ruth both gave him annoyed looks. "Surely my laundry habits are of no one's business but Ruth's and my own," Harry said, his tone getting sharper. "And surely you have something better to do than to be grilling Ruth about what it's like to share a house with me."

She glanced at him, smiling gratefully. "Harry, it's no harm," she assured him. "Danny doesn't think we've done anything wrong, he was just curious as to why you moved in with me."

"Ah," Harry said. "Her alarms were already installed and as I needed to move immediately, she was kind enough to offer me use of the spare bed."

"Thought you said the nanny was in the spare room," Danny said, frowning at Ruth.

"The sofa is a roll-out," Ruth said quickly. It wasn't, but that wasn't the point, was it?

"Oh, well – but that isn't a proper bed is it?" Danny continued.

Harry glared at him. "Make your point, Danny," he practically barked.

"Well, my point is that – well – uh –"

Ruth said, "Harry, it's okay." She reached over and touched his forearm, smiling a little. "He didn't mean anything by it."

"It's still got to be a bit weird, shacking up with the boss," Danny finally said.

Harry smiled a little and merely said, "Oh yes, it is." He left the distinct impression that Ruth was the boss and he was merely the chap about the place. And he headed off towards Malcolm.

Danny leaned in and said, "That was incredibly awkward –"

"Yes, well, continuing to talk about it isn't going to make it less so," Ruth pointed out. They'd been married for three hours and seventeen minutes; long enough for it to be real but not long enough for it to not feel like a bit of a dream-like state. Which was probably why Harry had chosen to stroll by her desk: to cement the fact that she was still committed to him.

But she hadn't counted on being grilled by Danny.

So she was a little flustered.

In the absence of any major catastrophes, the plan was to leave as soon as was good and proper – no earlier than six, and no later than eight. They would return home in time to have reheated dinner and read to the girls before they went to bed for the night, and then they would… Ruth felt a little nervous about the fact that once they'd made love as man and wife, it was really binding, really permanent. She was still afraid that he would change his mind and not want her as she wanted him.

He glanced over at her from Malcolm's station and smiled a little before he looked away. She felt her heart speed up a bit. By the end of the night, she would be even more his than she already was; the idea was both thrilling and terrifying.

* * *

"Mummy, can we go to the park tomorrow?" Daisy asked. "If you and Mister Harry don't have to go to work, I mean," she amended.

"Of course we can," Harry spoke up. "Do you want to go, Rose?"

Rose hesitated, then shook her head. "I'd rather read," she said quietly.

"Sissy doesn't like playing outside," Daisy said. "She gets awful headaches from the sunshine and teachers get cross because she can't play sports."

"Daisy, shut up," Rose said sharply. "Mister Harry doesn't want to hear about my stupid sun allergy."

Ruth gently tapped Rose on the head. "Stop telling Daisy to shut up," she said softly. She looked at Harry. "I've got a more mild version of Rose's allergy – if I spend too much time out and about, I get a dreadful headache and start to get blisters. That's why I always wear layers and longer sleeves when I know I'll be out. I hate that I passed it down to Rose."

Daisy said cheerfully, "I don't have it."

Harry chuckled. "That must be down to your dad, then," he said. "I'm sorry, Rose – I wouldn't have asked if I'd have known."

"I want to," Rose said very quietly, "but I can't."

"How about when I take Daisy to the park, we stop and I'll get you a new book to read?" Harry suggested.

Rose smiled shyly. "I'd like that, Mister Harry," she said.

"Please, I'd like it if you both would just call me Harry," he said in a gentle, coaxing manner. "Can you do that for me?"

"Can I call you daddy?" Daisy asked cheerfully.

"You can call me whatever you want," Harry said, looking a little taken aback. "But what about your dad –"

"He's gone to heaven, hasn't he? I don't have a dad anymore," Daisy reasoned with flawless nine year old logic. "But I want you to be my dad, so may I call you daddy?"

Rose got up and left the room, and Ruth followed her. "Rosie, love – she doesn't mean –"

"She does," Rose whispered, starting to cry. "Daddy didn't love her as much as he loved me; he said so. He said she has a different dad and he –"

"That's true," Ruth said very softly, pushing Rose's hair back out of her face. "She had a different father because I fell in love with someone else. And… your dad was very upset with me, as he should have been. But I stayed with him and you and we were a family. We are a family, Rosie. No matter what anyone says. And if she wants to call Harry daddy then let her. You don't have to, and he won't think any less of you for not calling him your dad."

Rose took a deep shuddering breath and buried her face in her mother's shoulder. "I miss my dad," she sobbed.

"I know," Ruth murmured, rubbing her back and just holding her close. "I know, love, I know… I'm so sorry."

"Do you love Mister Harry?" Rose asked abruptly, sniffling into the wet fabric of Ruth's blouse.

"Yes, I do," Ruth murmured. "And he loves me. That's why he moved in."

"Are you going to marry him?" Rose asked.

"Maybe," Ruth said. "Maybe sometime –"

"If you do, will he be our dad for real?" Rose asked, her voice very quiet.

"Yes. He will. If you want him to be."

Harry came into the corridor and said, "Is everything okay?"

"I want you to be my dad, too," Rose sniffled, looking miserable as only a pre-teen could. "But I'm not very good about asking for what I want."

Harry smiled just a little and said, "Rose, you don't have to rush anything – "

"Do you have kids?" Rose asked.

Harry's expression softened a bit more. "Yes, I have a daughter named Catherine and a son named Graham," he said.

"Oh," she said very quietly. "It's not fair for me to want you to be my dad when you've already got kids, is it?"

Daisy was looking out into the hallway from behind Harry, and she said, "Rose, he wants to be our daddy. A lot."

Ruth looked at Harry helplessly. She had no idea what to do now; none whatsoever. The line in the sand had been washed away and she was awash in the tide.

Harry, for his part, knelt down to get onto Rose's level, and gently took her hands in his. "Rosaleigh Evershed, I need you to do me a rather large favor," he said gently. "It's very important."

"What is it?" she asked very quietly.

"I need you to keep a secret."

"I'm bad at secrets," Daisy said, retreating so she wouldn't overhear them.

Rose merely nodded and said, "What's your secret, Mister Harry?"

"Your mother and I have gotten married this afternoon," he said very quietly, very gravely. "It's very important that no one knows until we're ready to tell them. I'm ready to tell you."

She just stared at him, eyes wide. "You married my mum?" she whispered. "So you're already my dad?"

"Step-father," Harry corrected gently. "But if you want, I can adopt you and your sister and I'll be your dad for real."

Rose blinked at him and murmured, "I… I think I'd like that."

Harry smiled a little and said, "Can I tell you another secret?"

Rose nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes."

"I love you and your sister almost as much as I love your mum," he whispered in her ear. "And I want to be a proper father to you both. Is that okay?"

She nodded eagerly and hugged him tight, burying her face in his shoulder. "Very okay," Rose whispered back.

"Now remember," Harry said, "it's a secret."

"Yes, sir," Rose said firmly. "A very secret secret."

When they all went back into the sitting room, Daisy had her earbuds in and was playing on her Nintendo DS, oblivious.

Harry gently plucked the bud out of her right ear and said, "Get to a save point – it's bedtime."

"Yes, daddy," Daisy said, glancing up at him and smiling.

* * *

He came out of the en suite, fluffing his hair with the towel, evidently not giving a damn that the rest of him was on display. He didn't seem to notice that she was staring at him over the edge of her book, either.

She'd chosen to wear a satin chemise with just a touch of lace to bed, because he seemed to love somewhat revealing nightwear that he didn't have to go to too much effort to remove. She wanted to make their night as easy as possible.

His hair was sticking out in every direction possible as he strode to the dresser and got a pair of trunks and track pants out. She watched him, still in awe that he was hers now. This man with his gorgeous ass, his powerful thighs and lovely other bits was all hers.

He disappeared back into the bathroom and when he came back, his hair was under more control and he looked happier than he had a few minutes before when he'd gone in for his shower. The HS had called, wanting to schedule a morning meeting, and Harry was bloody ticked about it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to shout earlier," he said, coming over and climbing into bed with her. "He's just a bloody idiot who doesn't understand that I have a family, too." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

She held up her book and murmured, "Five more minutes, okay? It's a rather long poem."

He flopped onto his back and laughed once, a strangled sound that was almost a bark. "It's our wedding night and I'm on the phone with work and you're more interested in poetry than –"

"It's ancient Greek poetry," she murmured. "Erotic poetry." She blushed.

"Even more irony," he sighed.

"Harry, it might surprise you to know that a woman's mind is her biggest erogenous zone," Ruth said softly, turning the page. "And if reading about Spartans getting their rocks off makes me hot and bothered, who are you to judge? I've seen your dirty rags – bosoms galore, and that's not what I've got a lot of." She bit her lip and shut up abruptly.

"Ruth, that's not fair," he said.

"I know," she breathed. "I don't know why I said it. I know you love me. I'm sorry."

"You're looking a bit like you did when we were taking a cab back to the hotel that night," Harry said softly. "Nervous, frightened…"

"Well, it's real now, isn't it?" she asked, putting her bookmark in place and closing her book. "We're married, properly married, and now it's time to seal the deal."

"How very old fashioned of you," Harry said with a chuckle. "We've already done that a hundred times over, Ruth – we were committed before we ever avowed our love to the registrar." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "We don't have to have sex tonight to prove a point. I want to make love tonight to show you that I love you."

"I know you love me," she murmured. "It's just a lot of pressure."

He sighed and pulled her close. "Then let's just snuggle a while and see how it goes," Harry said softly. "We have all the time in the world, now."

She melted into his embrace, closing her eyes and listening to his heart beating beneath her. And, really, there was nowhere she'd rather be than with him. It was hard to be so close to him and not let herself react to him, but the truth was, her heart was fluttering, her desire building into a warm heat between her thighs that almost hurt, it was so intense and keening.

Her voice was shaky when she murmured, "I think I'm done snuggling now."

He exhaled in relief and said, "Oh thank god, because I could hammer nails with this wood."

She giggled and said, "We're so worthless at this –"

"No, we're good at the being together, but not at the build-up," he sighed. "So maybe next time, I should just tear your knickers off and lick you till you succumb to me –"

"Oh, god, yes, please," she murmured, smiling.

He laughed, then said, "Ruth, my Ruth… what am I going to do with you?"

"Well, I can think of a few things…" she breathed. She leaned in and kissed him gently, tenderly. That kiss became ten, twenty, deep, hungry, full of want and need and greedy lusty passion. Their hands wandered, learning new pleasures, new bliss, and each moan or groan of encouragement just made it that much hotter between them. By the time he was deep inside her, Ruth realized that she'd always been in love with him; she was just adept enough at languages to trick herself into thinking that she wasn't in love.

END PART TWELVE


	13. Chapter 13

Thirteen:  
End of the World, End of the World, End of the World…

She was crying and she couldn't stop: Tom had shot Harry. He had gone so spectacularly off the rails that he'd shot her husband and attempted to escape. Her anxiety about Harry was off the charts, but Zoe had reassured her that it was just a shoulder wound and Harry would be fine. But… Tom, poor Tom. He'd lost the plot completely and now…

Sam came over with a tissue and wordlessly handed it over. "Harry will be okay," she tried to say reassuringly. "He's a tough old bugger –"

Ruth looked up at her and whispered, "Sam… what if he's not? Okay, I mean. What if he's not okay? What happens then?"

"It's just a shoulder wound, not the bloody Victoria Cross," Sam scoffed. "He'll be back and raising hell in a few days. Till then, we just have to pretend that we have the run of the place, eh? Who's in charge after Harry and Tom?"

Ruth paused and said, "I don't know – oh, god, I don't know. Who IS in charge?"

"Well, you've got the highest clearance on the Grid at the moment," Sam pointed out. "Maybe it should be you."

"Bloody hell," Ruth mumbled.

And less than ten minutes later, she was being shoved out of the way by Special Branch, her desk turned upside down and inside out, a photo of the girls and Gareth gone flying off the desk and shattering. "Get your HANDS off my THINGS!" she shrieked, grabbing at the photo, getting cut on the broken glass in the process. "What right do you have to touch any of this?"

The man sneered at her and moved on, and she grabbed the phone, dialing Zoe. "You and Danny had better get back here," she said with deceptive calm. It meant she was about ready to snap completely. "Special Branch plods are turning the place over."

"What? On whose authority?"

"They say the Joint Intelligence Community has launched an investigation, but can the JIC do that do that so fast?" She was struggling to keep it glued together; everything was falling apart.

"Ruth, tell Harry," Zoe insisted.

She looked up and saw Oliver Mace enter through the pods, and her heart stopped. "Oh no," she moaned. "The chairman of the JIC just walked in. Listen: doghouse. NOW."

Mace plucked the phone out of Ruth's grasp and hung up. "No more phone calls, please," he said rather smugly. She resisted the urge to punch him in the face. And then she resisted the urge to knee him in the balls. And lastly, she resisted the urge to kick him in the shin like a five-year-old. "I'm launching an investigation sanctioned by Downing Street, so you're all suspended." He looked over at Ruth and almost smiled; a shiver ran down her spine at the pure evil in that ghost of a smile. "This is going to be something of a blood bath," he said with an almost amused tone.

She didn't flinch, didn't move, until he left her space. And then she grabbed her coat, purse, and the broken photo frame, ignoring the blood on her hand where the glass had cut her. Mace blocked her exit, and Ruth set her jaw stubbornly. "I suggest you move," she said, "unless you want to explain to your men how a little woman took you down in front of them." Her glare meant business, and he relented, moving out of her way. Sam and Malcolm followed her with their coats and things, knowing that as soon as they were through security, all bets were off.

She had two tail cars all the way home, no matter how hard she tried to shake them. And several officers watching the house. Her first order of business was to get the kids out of the way and somewhere safe, so they wouldn't try to play games on that side. If they were watched, they were safe. She went inside and told Ginny in hushed tones and written words that she'd been suspended and she needed her to pick the girls up and take them to Bath to Gareth's parents. Ginny agreed, looking more than a little worried.

Ruth packed the girls' overnight bags and sent a couple of emails, reminding her in-laws that they'd agreed to take the girls for the weekend. It was true enough, but Ruth and Harry were supposed to drive them down there, not the nanny. "Tell them… tell them I'm sorry I can't come," Ruth said softly. "Tell them that I love them so much –"

Ginny nodded and took the bags, going out to her car. Ruth watched her, watched one of the tail cars follow her, and Ruth felt a fierce sense of exhaustion overcome her.

She walked out the front door and crossed her arms, regarding all of the teams with irritation. She threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed, "Bring it – I bloody dare you!" She lowered her voice to a dangerous whisper. "After the day I've had? I'll fuck you all up."

* * *

She packed a small bag with a few things for Harry; a couple changes of trunks, his toothbrush, and her beloved copy of Jane Eyre – in which she'd hidden messages for him in the margins. She had to trust that someone would see sense and let her through to see him. Otherwise… it was going to get very ugly very quickly.

She took the Tube and several taxis to lose her tail, but they had to know where she was going. It was a foregone conclusion that where Harry Pearce was, Ruth Evershed would follow. It had become a derisive joke at work when people wanted to poke fun at her, but she'd finally gotten to a point where she had to take it in stride.

She hurried through the hospital and peered through the doors of Harry's room. She tugged on them: they were locked. Some bloody bastard had locked him in the room! Righteous indignation rose up within her and Ruth felt her blood pressure rising.

Harry's guard said, "Can I help you?", nearly making her jump out of her skin.

"I've come to see Mr. Pearce," she stammered, all that resolve gone in the face of sheer physical intimidation.

"Sorry, no visitors today –"

"Oh, this is bloody well ridiculous!" she said, raising her voice. "I'm Ruth bloody Evershed – I'm his emergency contact – I'm his bloody WIFE!"

The man shooed her away from the door. "Go on, go – and try the wife line again, I'll have you arrested."

She pursed her lips together, glaring. "At least let me speak to the doctor," she said. "I need to know he's all right."

The guard looked down his nose at her. "I think not."

She held up the small bag and said, "I brought him clean underwear and a book. That's it – that's all I want. To deliver those and make sure my HUSBAND is all right."

The guard sneered at her. "Mr. Pearce isn't married."

"How much are you willing to bet on that?" she challenged.

"Don't make me detain you –"

She handed him the bag. "Look through it; there's nothing in there that will do any harm."

He took the bag and glanced through it. "No, I suppose not."

"Then please take it to him," Ruth said quietly. "And tell him I covered the flowers so they're safe. It'll make sense to him – his garden, you see. He loves his bloody roses."

The man relented and nodded. "All right."

She looked through the window at Harry and winced as he thrashed about in pain. "I do need to speak to the doctor – I am his emergency contact and I've not been consulted on any of his procedures –"

"My orders come from Downing Street."

She whirled around and glared at him. "I don't care who you bloody well report to; that man is my husband and I swear to god on high if I don't speak to his doctor in the next two minutes, I will lodge every protest in the book and I will raise every level of hell until I speak to someone who can tell me his condition."

The guard grabbed her arm and all but frog-marched her to the nurse's station. "They'll tell you everything you need to know," he said, then he headed back to Harry's corridor.

Ruth felt a small sense of triumph, but it was short-lived when she suddenly realized that HR hadn't pushed through the updates on her and Harry's paperwork yet. And she was second on his contact list behind Tom Quinn. Tom Quinn, who was likely dead and a traitor. No wonder they hadn't called her.

She got the barest bones of information, enough to know that he would be up and about in a few days. So she left. She took four taxis and two busses in order to reach the Doghouse meet an hour before dusk. By the time she got home, she was exhausted. As such, she flipped off her minders with a sweet smile as she slipped into the house.

* * *

The second day saw Ruth and Sam carted down to the cells to be interrogated. Ruth held her tongue, not answering a damn thing until Oliver bloody Mace came into the room.

"I've turned the tapes and the cameras off," he said with that smarmy smile. "I think the nature of our discussion is… delicate… enough for that."

"I have nothing to discuss with you," she said, her voice cold as ice. "If you intend to arrest me, feel free to do it already."

"Oh, Mrs. Evershed… don't think I haven't thought about it," Mace said with all the finesse of a snake. "But you're of far more use to me… unshackled." He smirked at her. "By the by, I hear congratulations are in order."

"Go to hell."

He laughed. "Now, now, Mrs. Evershed – or should I say… Mrs. Pearce?" She started a little at that, and him knowing made her feel very vulnerable. "Play nicely – I'm offering you an out. A way to keep your pretty little nose clean…"

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing.

"Harry and I share a certain… predilection… for a particular type of woman," Mace said. "You aren't his type. What hold do you have over him? Is your cunt made of gold? Do you give the best blow job this side of Singapore?"

Her face flushed bright red and she stood up. "Go to hell," she hissed, crossing her arms protectively over her torso.

"Show me exactly why he has to have you and I will let you walk out of here unscathed by this… unpleasantness," he said. "And I will call off the team watching your daughters and the nanny."

Ruth held her ground. "Go to hell," she repeated. "Fuck you. How dare you insinuate that I've ever used my sexuality to move up the ladder? How DARE you belittle my life with Harry? How fucking dare you."

He smirked. "Oh please, as if your move from GCHQ wasn't pre-meditated… Harry never does anything without a reason. And you're not pretty enough to fuck on your own merits."

She slapped him so hard his head whipped round. And then he was up and grabbing her wrists, pinning her to the wall. "I really wish you hadn't done that," he hissed. "Because now… now, I'm going to enjoy ruining you, dear Ruth." He kissed her, hard, forcing her mouth open and kissing her like he clearly thought he should kiss a woman.

Ruth bit his tongue and kneed him in the balls. "If you ever touch me again," she hissed, looking at his prone figure in disgust as he doubled over in agony, "EVER – I won't be responsible for my actions." She used his groaning to slip out and run back to the Grid. After all, there was to be safety in numbers.

* * *

She heard raised voices from Harry's office and her heart leapt nearly out of her chest when she saw Harry standing there. She knew he had to have been self-discharged without doctor's recommendations, the way he was wobbling. But she'd never been happier to see him, and she almost started to cry. After being assaulted by Mace? Seeing Harry was like seeing a unicorn shitting rainbows and glitter.

After Mace and his cronies buggered off, Ruth watched Harry sit down in his office, and she all but flew through the door. "Have you taken your medicine?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine," he said. "Better now for having seen you." He blinked up at her tiredly. "The girls?"

"Bath with Gareth's mum and dad," she said.

He nodded and closed his eyes for a long moment. "Are you all right?" he asked.

She hesitated, then nodded. "Mace," she said with a shrug. "He's quite a piece of work. He knows about us. And he… uh…"

"Ruth?"

"He tried to… god, he assaulted me, Harry. I basically bit his tongue and kneed him in the balls." She looked a little sheepish. "He was blustering about ruining me, but if he tries… I've got leverage."

"Who does he think he is?" Harry hissed. "Touching my wife –"

"He was trying to intimidate me; it didn't work," she said softly. She sat down beside him on the couch and held his hand. "I've survived worse. Don't look at me like that." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "I love you and I'm so glad you're going to be all right."

Harry closed his eyes and leaned in, kissing her gently on the lips, aware that the rest of the team was probably watching them with interest. Even in the midst of the most awful, gut-wrenching uncertainty they'd ever faced, gossip would eventually win the day.

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him back like her life depended on it – and maybe it did. Maybe she needed him so much that she'd forgotten what it was like to be alone. But she didn't care. He was here, and here was safe for the moment.

END PART THIRTEEN


	14. Chapter 14

Fourteen:  
Face Off

She was neck deep in data when her little mole in security alerted her to Mace's arrival. She hurried into the conference room and said, "Harry, Oliver Mace is on his way up." She hoped that her voice wasn't shaking too badly; after what had happened that morning, she was honestly afraid to be in the same postal code as the man, let alone the same room. Harry had soothed her ruffled feathers, but it wasn't as if she didn't already know what Mace was capable of. She knew Harry had already called for his own team to go in and monitor the children, but she was still terrified that something might happen because she'd held her own and not been intimidated by Mace.

Harry got up from the table and shot her a suffering look before he went to meet the odious man at the pods. She watched them take the circuitous route to Harry's office, as far away from her desk as humanly possible, and let out a shuddering breath.

Adam noticed the immediate tension, and came to her desk. "You have an issue with Mace?" he asked quietly.

She hesitated, then nodded. "This morning, his team took Sam and me down to the cells. She was fine: gave them only the information they already knew. I… however… wasn't." She looked down at her desk, not meeting his eyes. "He tried to intimidate me into betraying Harry and Tom, and he threatened my family."

Adam contemplated her for a moment, then said, "Did he have something to lord over you? Something that was worth more in the long run than any information on Tom Quinn or the Section's response to his going off the deep end?"

Ruth nodded, and looked up at him. "Yes," she said quietly.

"I need to know what that is."

She swallowed hard. "I can't," she said simply. "It's not just my secret –"

"Ruth, did he turn off the cameras?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Did he touch you – did he do anything in any way to –"

"He pinned me to the wall and kissed me," she spat. "I bit him and kneed him in the balls – of course I'm scared to death to be anywhere near him. The last time something like that happened to me, I was raped. By my own husband. If my secret was big enough for Mace to risk that to break me, why the HELL do you think I'll play confessional for you?"

"Because I'm trying to protect you," Adam said simply. "And your family. I need to know."

Her hands were shaking and her voice trembled. "Everyone saw Harry and me in his office, didn't they? I've heard all the tittering. They're working, but they're all… talking."

Adam hesitated and nodded. "Yes, they're concerned that it's a bad time for you and Harry to suddenly start necking in his office," he said. "I keep telling them to focus, that that's not what we're here for."

She knew he'd seen them as he'd come onto the Grid, and said, "We're normally careful. We don't let the personal cross with the professional. But he got shot yesterday and I was so glad he was all right that I just – I – it was my fault, Adam. The kissing in his office was my fault."

"How long have you two been involved?" Adam asked. "I only ask because Harry is very fierce to protect your family…"

"Eight months," Ruth said quietly. "We've been married two weeks." There it was: the confession. "He knows what the girls mean to me and he loves them dearly, as well." She swallowed hard. "I feel dirty now; cheap, like I sold myself."

"Don't," Adam said. "You love Harry; he loves you. Sometimes, that's the best you can hope for in this business: to find someone who you can love, regardless of the consequences." He took a deep breath and said, "I won't tell anyone, Ruth."

"Please don't," she murmured. "It was for your ears only – operational data." She smiled nervously up at him. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?" Adam asked.

"For not judging me."

Adam said, "It's not my place to judge you."

"Everyone else is looking at it as if I'd just… shagged the boss. And it's not like that, Harry and me. It's not," she said quickly.

"Ruth, I don't need to know that," Adam said firmly. "It's okay," he assured her, patting her shoulder gently. "It will be okay."

He headed over to check on Sam and Zoe, who were embroiled in something, and she thought that she might be able to get used to Adam on the Grid, if that came to pass. He was kind but ruthless and he smoothed feathers and calmed situations better than even she did.

Mace and Harry squared off in Harry's office, then Mace stormed out.

Ruth felt him lean over her chair and he breathed in her ear, "Your husband is a –"

She fought the urge to scream, instead rising from her chair and facing him directly. "Don't." She took a step back, catching the corner of the desk on the back of her thigh and flinching, knowing there would be a huge bruise come morning. Another bruise, another reminder of Mace.

"Do you really think you can defend Tom?" Mace scoffed. "You're nothing but a pedalpusher, Evershed, and you're going to pedal straight into a hornet's nest –"

She caught Adam's gaze and hoped he could read the unsettling panic she felt. "It seems I already have, Mr. Mace," Ruth hissed.

Harry stormed out of his office and grabbed Mace by the back of the neck with his good hand, yanking him away from Ruth. "So help me god, Oliver, if you ever – EVER – touch my wife again, I will hunt you down and I will kill you," he shouted.

Mace's face registered surprise, or something akin to it. "So defensive over her?"

"You disabled the CCTV specifically to intimidate and sexually assault one of my officers because she is close to me," Harry growled. "I think that puts you on the same level as the people who assassinated Sir John Stone. Maybe even lower. Definitely lower. They at least had conviction – you, on the other hand, will roll over for anyone with a doggy biscuit."

Ruth had taken the chance to get away from the brawl going down, and was standing shoulder to shoulder with Adam; they were flanked by Danny and Zoe, who were watching the proceedings with some surprise. Ruth swallowed hard, knowing that Harry had outed them out of necessity, but it was going to make everything so much harder.

"You would really believe the word of that… scheming whore?" Mace laughed. "Really, Harry, you've lost your touch –"

Harry's hand went round Mace's throat. "If you come near her again, if you so much as breathe on my wife, if you touch her, if you threaten her or our children, if you come within arm's length of her for ANY reason, I will destroy you, Oliver Mace. I will take great pleasure in watching you writhe and beg for mercy; and there will be none to be had. Do I make myself clear?" His grip intensified, and Mace began to make choking, strangled noises.

"Harry," Ruth called out, "don't. You're better than him. Let him walk away."

Harry looked at her for a long moment, then released the chairman of the JIC and said, "Are we understood, Oliver? I will not hesitate to protect my family."

Mace rubbed his neck and coughed a little before he rasped, "The great Harry Pearce, brought to his knees by a woman and children…"

Harry's face contorted into something ugly, cruel, and he said, "Don't forget that I know about your little second wife in Nicaragua, Oliver. And your son. Do not for one moment think that I know less of you than you know of me. The difference between us is that I would never think to harm your family. Get out of my sight before I do something I will regret."

She'd never seen this side of him; dark, angry, cruel in ways that defied explanation. She didn't ever want to see it again, but it seemed to be effective. Mace scurried away like the roach he was, and the Grid fell silent, just watching Harry squeeze his good hand into a fist over and over again. Suddenly, he relaxed and he reached up to run his hand over his face, smearing droplets of sweat across his forehead.

"Malcolm," Ruth said, getting the other man's attention. "Can you erase the last few minutes of the CCTV footage? The last thing we need is someone getting a hold of film of Harry strangling the chairman of the JIC."

Harry glanced over at her, worry and regret etched onto his face. "Thank you, Ruth – I'm – I'm afraid I've made a mess of things."

She shook her head and smiled a little. "Thank you for coming to my defense. Though, really, I could have just kicked him." Ruth hesitated for a moment, then walked over to him and gave him a hug. He held her close, and she felt his labored breathing and tension. "I rather liked your method, though – much more intimidating than asking if my blowjobs were the best this side of the Atlantic."

He released her, nodding stiffly. He looked at the team and said, "Ruth and I have… been keeping a secret."

"I should bloody well say so," Colin said.

Ruth took Harry's hand and threaded their fingers together so there was no doubt that they were together. The team would probably jump to all the wrong conclusions, but she wanted there to be no doubt as to their commitment to one another. "We were married about two weeks ago," she said. "It doesn't affect our work, so please don't say that we've done something horrible and god-awful. Don't cheapen or demean it."

Harry exhaled and said, "There will be time for this later – right now, we need to be focused on Tom, on proving his innocence and proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Herman Joyce was responsible." He was still sweating, tiny beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.

"Harry, have you taken your pain pills?" Ruth asked.

"No," he said stubbornly. "I don't need them clouding my mind."

Heedless of the reactions of everyone else on the Grid, she turned him and led him back to his office. She got the painkillers off his desk and got him a glass of water from his cooler. "Take them," she said softly. "Don't make me invoke wife's privilege to maim and destroy. Not here."

"I couldn't hold it back," Harry confessed. He took the pills and drank the water. "I couldn't hold back my rage at what he'd tried to do to you and I – I overreacted."

She shook her head and leaned against the edge of the desk with him, looking out at the Grid. "I think you reacted just enough," she murmured.

"I could have killed him," Harry said simply. "I wanted to."

"I know you did," she whispered. "That you stepped back from the abyss shows that you're not the same kind of man he is."

"I was, once," Harry sighed. "Ruthless, ambitious, focused…"

"What changed you?" she asked.

He looked up at her and said, "Honestly?"

She nodded. "Truthfully."

He exhaled and said, "I met this gorgeous brunette at a pub… and she made me want to be a better man, even if she wasn't mine to have."

She held his hand and murmured, "We'll find something that proves Tom was innocent, Harry. I know we will."

Harry grunted in reply.

"And when this is all over, you and I are taking the girls away for a few days and hiding," she promised, squeezing his fingers.

It was the best idea she'd ever had.

Running away.

END PART FOURTEEN


	15. Chapter 15

Fifteen:  
Interlude

"Do you mind waiting out here a few minutes?" Ruth asked softly, reaching over and holding Harry's hand for a moment over the gearshift of the car.

"No, of course not," he said. "You need to tell your in-laws about me."

"I'm sure the girls have already done that," Ruth sighed.

"Probably," he agreed. "All of it glowing praise, I'm sure."

She frowned a little and squeezed his hand. "It's just… it's going to be awkward. Gareth was their son and now I'm here and he's not, and I'm with someone and – it's just going to be odd for them."

"Take your time," he said gently. "You're the boss, boss. I'll just sit out here and wait patiently. Maybe I'll take a nap."

"You napped the whole way here," she said with a chuckle.

"Yes, well, I'm on very heavy-duty pain medication," he said. "I can't really help it."

She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "I'm not ashamed of you," she promised, "I just need to warn them to avoid some of the unpleasantness that could ensue."

"Go on, then," he said. "Off with you; saving the world one unpleasant in-law scenario at a time."

She laughed and got her purse from the back seat. "Be good, you," Ruth scolded softly. "I'll be back for you soon as."

She went to the front door of the non-descript house, hitting the doorbell and smiling when she heard a flurry of activity; dogs barking, children scrambling, adults heading for the door. Elise Evershed opened the door, looking a bit tired and worse for wear, but that happened whenever the grandkids came over and ran her ragged. "Hi," Ruth said cheerfully. "Work let up a bit, so here I am."

Elise had an expression of gratefulness on her face, which meant that, even with Ginny keeping her usual tight reins on the girls, it was a little too overwhelming for Elise and Rob. "Oh, good – I thought that maybe something dreadful had happened," Elise said. "What is it you do now?"

"I'm with the Department for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs," Ruth said. "Home Office somehow got it in their head that Sir John Stone had his fingers in one of our pies when he died, and they decided to go a little power mad and hold us all in our offices till something was resolved. I'm so sorry I had to send the nanny –"

"Don't be; come on in – we've just been playing cards," Elise said cheerfully. "Rose has been taking us for all the chocolate buttons in Pinochle – she's got a keen brain."

Ruth hung up her coat and came through, smiling as she saw the girls in their sock feet around the coffee table with their grandfather and a space for their grandmother, hands full of cards. "MUMMY!" Daisy shrieked excitedly. "When did you come?"

"Just now," Ruth replied. "Oh, that's a good hand, love."

"Mum," Rose sighed, "you aren't meant to do that…"

"I could be bluffing," Ruth reminded her with a smile. "Making you want to up your bid…" She turned to Rob and smiled. "Hullo, Rob – how are you?"

He grunted a reply, concentrating on his hand – or apparent lack thereof. Then he looked up and smiled. "Business is good," he commented. "And we've just had one of the litters sell off, so only three in the pipeline now instead of four."

They were professional dog breeders, and their Jack Russells were the envy of the UK, winning tournaments and taking best in breed almost every time. Speaking of, Lady was nudging Ruth's leg, and she bent low to stroke the dog behind the ears and greet her. Lady was a right old bitch, having gone blind and a bit deaf, but she'd always been Ruth's favorite. "Hello, love," she murmured. She was the oldest dog in the bunch, now; still, she was quiet and lovely and Ruth would be sad to see her go.

"Thirty," Rose said as her grandmother resumed her place on the couch.

"You can't just open at thirty!" Rob exclaimed.

"You can take it," Elise laughed.

Daisy scowled at her cards. "I pass," she mumbled. She looked up at Ruth and said, "Did daddy come with you?"

There was silence so awkward it could have been sliced with a knife. Ginny looked up from her book in the corner, where she was cuddled with a couple of dogs at her feet and just kind of shrugged as if to tell Ruth that she was absolutely on her own.

Rose spoke up and said, "She means Harry, nana and papa."

Suddenly, the tension was relieved a bit as they passed cards back and forth and laid out meld. "Rose tells us that you've got a chap in your life now," Rob said cautiously. "And that he's rather nice."

Ruth nodded and said, "Yes. He's in the car because I didn't want things to be horribly awkward."

Elise pursed her lips together and said, "What does he do?"

"Ah, he's the Section Chairman for my division at work," Ruth replied. "We met in the office, but it was very clear that there was more between us… so we went out. And now I can't imagine life without him with us."

"He's a good dad," Daisy interjected.

Rose smiled a little and nodded. "Yes, he is," she agreed.

"So you shan't be mean when he comes in," Daisy added.

Ruth smiled a little at that. "He's resting at the moment," she said. "He had a bit of an accident – he went to talk to a woman up in Yorkshire a couple of days ago, and she took offense at what he was saying and shot him with a sawed-off shotgun."

"Bloody hell," Rob exclaimed, eyes wide. "Is he all right?"

"A bit high on painkillers, but otherwise, fine," Ruth said. "It happened right about the time my department got locked down, so I was a bit anxious about not getting to see him in hospital, but… he checked out and came to set Whitehall straight."

"Very brave man, he is," Rob said.

"Stupid, more like," Elise sighed. "Go tell him to come in and get warm by the fire – no sense in him getting cold out there. Especially since you're staying the night."

"I'll go get him," Ruth said, "and our bags."

"There's only one room left," Elise warned, "so you and your fellow will have to share – unless one of you wants to take the sofa."

"They share a room at home," Rose interjected.

Ruth blushed a little and said, "Yes, that's true."

"Well, it would be awkward to be committed to someone and not share a room," Elise said mildly, not passing judgment. "Just bring him in."

Ruth went out to the car and shook Harry awake gently. "Come on, dear heart," she murmured. "It's time to go inside. The lady of the house thinks you should have the seat of honor by the fire. I told them we work together like our cover suggests, so nothing untoward."

"What did you tell them about my shoulder?" he asked sleepily.

"That you got shot by an old bat in Yorkshire who didn't like what you had to say to her," she said cheerfully.

He laughed mirthlessly. "You're too good at lying, Ruth."

She stroked his cheek and smiled. "And the girls are very eager to see you – seems they have a new favorite person and it's not their mum," she teased.

Harry nodded and got out of the car with her help. She could tell his painkillers were making him a bit woozy and now she understood why he'd not wanted to take them during Operation: Bugger Tom All To Fucking Hell. "Ugh," he muttered. "The world is spinning."

"Careful," she murmured.

"I'll be fine in a moment," he assured her.

She put her arm around his waist and helped support him. "Okay," she murmured. "I'll just stay here, then, till you've got your sea legs."

"I was in the Army, not the Navy," he scolded with an amused smile.

"And I'm sure you were irresistible in your uniform," she teased.

"Been a long time since I've been in uniform," he said sadly. "Now I'm just a fat old spook –"

"My fat old spook," she murmured softly, barely audibly. "Harry, what you look like doesn't matter. It's not why I care for you – I mean, I like what you look like, but it's not the whole reason."

" What is?" he asked. "You've never told me."

She smiled and kissed him gently. "I will someday," she promised. "And you'll probably think I've gone properly mad."

"You are a bit bonkers," he chuckled.

She kissed him again and murmured, "I'll tell you a secret: all the best people are."

He straightened up a bit and said, "True enough, that." Harry took a deep breath and said, "I think I'm ready to go in now. The dizziness has subsided a bit."

"Good," she said. "I'll get the bags and meet you at the door."

He nodded and took it slowly, one step at a time. She got their bags out of the back of the Land Rover and met him at the door. "They're good people," Ruth said. "They'll grill you a little but it's going to be just to make sure you don't mean to do harm to Rose and Daisy."

Harry sighed and said, "I'm not up for any kind of interrogation."

"I know," she assured him. "It's all right."

"Lead me to that chair by the fire," he said with an authority he didn't seem to feel.

She opened the door and set their bags aside, choosing to lead him into the sitting room and get him set up in the armchair by the fire. He made a sound of gratefulness as he sat down and closed his eyes again.

Daisy said, "Daddy, you came! Ginny thought you wouldn't because it's not your mum and dad we're come seeing and –"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Mum, she never shuts up," she whined.

Ruth hadn't missed the bickering one bit. Of course, she'd had all of the bickering at work to deal with, so it wasn't as if she hadn't had a substitute for it. "Can I have a hug or what?" she asked.

"When we finish the hand," Daisy said. "Papa and I are winning, mum!"

"Yes, because you keep getting the aces," Rose said with a pout. "Nana and I have only gotten one good hand this game. Last game, I scored all the chocolate buttons, but this time, I've only gotten licorice."

"What are you playing?" Harry asked.

"Pinochle!" Daisy squealed in glee.

He nodded and smiled a little. "Ah – I'm afraid I don't know how to play, so you'll have to teach me," Harry said. "When we get home, of course."

"Oh, we will," Rose said cheerfully.

Ruth settled down on the sofa and Lady wandered up, whining. Ruth picked her up and set her on her lap, showering the little dog with affection. "Oh, I've missed you, too, old girl," she murmured. "I wish I could see you more often… I do."

"Oh, did I mention that we've got three litters about to go up for sale?" Rob asked. "We've got a runt with one of them, and she's not going to be of any use, so we thought maybe the girls would like to have her –"

"Oh, we get a puppy?" Daisy gasped excitedly.

"Calm down," Ruth said. "Harry and I need to discuss it –"

Harry said, "You've already got two cats… what could a dog hurt?"

"My shoes," Ruth shot back.

"Oh, please, mum," Rose said. "Can we? We had a dog once – when I was little… it was a Jack, wasn't it?"

Ruth sighed and said, "Oh, all right, then… but you two have to take care of her. What's her name?" she asked Elise and Rob.

"We haven't named her," Rob said. "Thought it should be your choice if you took her."

"Well, then, where is she?" Ruth asked.

Lady hopped off of Ruth's lap and went over to sniff Harry. He looked down at the old dog and said, "Aw, who's a tired old girl?" Lady wuffled and settled in at his feet. "Well, she seems to have it right – about time for a nap, eh?" he joked.

"The runt's in the kitchen," Elise said. "The rest of the litter would likely trample her, so we keep her separated from them."

Ruth got up and headed for the kitchen, frowning when she saw the little puppy locked up in her kennel. "Oh, hello, love," she sighed. The puppy yipped at her, and pressed her nose up against the bars. When Ruth poked her fingers through and stroked the puppy's nose, she got a slobbery kiss in return. "Aren't you a lovely girl?" she asked, her heart melting with the puppy's eagerness. She opened the kennel and the dog tumbled out, barking joyfully as she rushed into Ruth's lap. She calmed down after a few minutes, cuddling up to Ruth and settling in for a snooze.

She carried the puppy back into the sitting room and said, "Yes, absolutely, we'll take her home. How much do you want for her? I know we're family, and she's not worth as much as the other pups, but you should get something for all your trouble."

Elise shook her head. "Nothing, dear – just keep her happy and send us photos."

Ruth smiled over at Harry, who was asleep. "Well, he's settled right in…" She carried the puppy over and set her down on his lap.

A few minutes later, he woke up to someone licking him. He startled awake and looked down at the puppy. "Oh, hello," Harry groaned. "How did you get up here?" The puppy, obviously, didn't reply – just snuggled up around his neck. "What's her name?" he asked gruffly of Ruth.

"Well, we don't know yet," she replied. "She's coming home with us, so… we should name her."

His eyes widened a bit. "Oh," he said. "In that case, I should be flattered she doesn't hate me –"

The puppy made a sleepy, happy noise and licked just below his ear. "Oh, I think she loves you," Ruth said softly. "What would you call her?"

He smiled. "How about Scarlett?"

She raised an eyebrow, wondering if he meant John McLeod Scarlett or if he meant the less innocuous color version. The puppy, for her part, responded immediately, as if she'd always know that was her name, licking his face excitedly. "Scarlett it is," she said, chuckling a bit. She'd ask him later which it was; but maybe then it didn't matter much.

The game finished and Daisy bounced over to hop onto Harry's lap. "I missed you, daddy," she said, reaching up to pet Scarlett.

"Careful, Daisy," Ruth said. "Harry's shoulder is –"

"Ruth, I'm not going to break," Harry said. "It's fine."

Daisy said, "Would some chocolate buttons make it better? Sissy's got loads of them – I've just got a few Jammy Dodgers and jelly babies now."

"That's because you kept eating them while we were playing," Rose giggled.

Harry looked over at Rose and said, "Don't be shy, Rose – come give me a hug like you usually do. I'm not hurting so much as all that."

Ruth watched her in-laws watching Harry and the girls, knowing that they were sizing him up. The truth was, they'd talked about this so much behind closed doors. He knew he'd been a dreadful father to Catherine and Graham, and he saw her girls as a chance to redeem himself. He wasn't young, prideful, and stupid anymore – he was older, wiser, and his priorities had shifted since she'd been back in his life. And he'd taken to his fatherly duties like a fish to water, mostly.

Rose got up and carried a handful of candy over to him. She gave him a hug and passed it over. "These are for you, Harry," she said. "Because you love them as much as I do."

"Why don't we share them?" he suggested.

"Can I have one, Rosie?" Daisy asked. "Just one – you can have one of my jelly babies, if you want."

"Of course," Rose said, giving up all of her candy to her sister and Harry, happy just that they were pleased to get the chocolate. Ruth watched her oldest daughter with a smile on her lips, knowing that the girl was generous to a fault, and that she had learned it from her.

Daisy hopped up and went to get her candy spoils, offering them up to Harry and Rose, too – but not too many. Clearly, she had a bit too much of Harry in her. He liked to take, then stingily give back when it pleased him to do so. But Ruth couldn't complain too much – she had married the man after all, even knowing that.

Elise leaned over and said, "He seems a nice enough bloke. And he's good with the girls…"

Ruth smiled a little and murmured, "Yes, he is. He's got two kids of his own, but he doesn't see them much. I think Rose and Daisy partially make up for that, but he's trying so hard. It's not easy to just pick up with a mum with kids who know what's going on. Maybe it would've been easier if they were younger, but…" She shook her head. "I think we do well."

"I know you don't expect us to like him because he's taking Gareth's place, but it's not simply cut and dried like that," Elise said. "We know what kind of a relationship you and Gareth had. We know he wasn't as perfect as he wanted to seem."

Ruth struggled to keep her feelings from rising up to the surface. "Yes, well… I signed my life away to him, didn't I? I married him, I was supposed to love him for all his faults."

"To be honest, when he killed himself, it was a relief," Elise murmured. "God help me for telling the truth – he wasn't himself anymore."

"No," Ruth said softly. "He wasn't."

"I've always thought of you as my daughter, too," Elise said. "I just want you to be happy; if you're happy, then my girls are happy. And Harry makes you happy."

Ruth licked her lips and said, "I know Gareth told you that Daisy wasn't his."

"Yes."

"She's… she's his. Harry's." Ruth's quiet admission was overwhelming, terrifying. "We met in a pub and… it was insane and wonderful and – and –" She looked guiltily up at Elise. "I tried so hard to make it work with Gareth. I did. But you can't help who you love – you aren't meant to try, either." She looked away and said, "I suppose you hate me now."

Elise leaned in close and murmured, "I never could, love… besides, Gareth wasn't Rob's." She raised a finger. "And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll have to sic the dogs on you."

Ruth just gaped at her. "What the hell?"

Elise shrugged. "Love is never easy," she replied. "As long as Harry treats you and the girls well, I don't have an issue with him. Did you ever think about leaving my son for him?"

Ruth, still dumbfounded, just nodded.

"You should have," Elise said. "It would've saved you the troubles." She smiled and patted Ruth on the shoulder. "Now, I'm glad we've had this little chat, but I'm afraid that dinner won't make itself. You go play with the girls and make sure your Harry is comfortable."

* * *

Harry was almost asleep when Ruth came back into the bedroom. "Bloody pills," he mumbled.

"Shh," she murmured, slipping out of her clothes and into her pajamas. "Close your eyes and go to sleep. Your body is demanding that you rest."

He sighed. "Your in-laws are good people," he said. "I didn't want them to like me. I wanted there to be conflict, a line in the dirt that I wasn't meant to cross."

She smiled and climbed into bed with him, snuggling up under the blankets. "Well, they like you, too," she said softly. "So that's good for Christmas, then – which is coming up sooner than you think."

"Bloody hell, I didn't even think about the holidays," he sighed. "I suppose I have to think of presents for the girls –"

"No, you just leave that to me," she murmured. "But, we'll have to host Christmas dinner or go to mum's… she's ever so cross if we don't see her on Christmas. Gareth always hated the inevitable family gathering – of course, he hated Peter and Angela and their smugness more than mum and David making everything awkward."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "I think I want to sleep now," he mumbled. "The idea of sharing a Christmas goose with Angela Wells is going to induce nightmares if I think about it much further."

Ruth smiled and quipped, "How do you think I feel every year?"

His answer was a light snore as his medicine kicked in.

She decided to take full advantage of it, and put her cold feet against his shins, smiling when he mumbled in his sleep.

END PART FIFTEEN


	16. Chapter 16

Sixteen:  
For Once We Were Children…

Ruth slid her arms around Harry's waist from behind and leaned into him. "I'm glad your daughter turned out not to be a terrorist," she commented dryly. "That would be terribly awkward at Christmas when it's time to pass the pudding – 'Oh yes, I'm only plotting to overthrow the world as we know it, dad; may I have the brandy sauce for the figgy pudding?'"

He scowled at her in the mirror. "Not amusing, Ruth."

She kissed his shoulder and smiled. "Oh, but it kind of is, in that… terribly ironic way." She tickled him a little. "I know you've tried to talk to her in your limited way…"

He sighed and pulled out of her arms, heading out into the bedroom. "Ruth, I don't want to talk about it," Harry said grumpily. "She's coming in for a debriefing tomorrow. She'll get to see the inner workings of the Grid and maybe she'll understand –"

"Harry, you're being far too adult about this," she protested. "Catherine is what –"

"Twenty-six."

"She still thinks like a child, with innocence – you and this and who you are clearly haven't taken that away," Ruth said softly. "Have you ever seen her films?"

"Of course I've seen her films!" he exclaimed. "What kind of a bloody awful parent do you take me for? Just because I can't be there at every turn does not mean that I love her any less or care any less –"

She bit her lip and turned away from him for a moment, so he wouldn't see her tears. "That's not what I meant," Ruth said, her voice low and choked. "I just meant… she sees the world with a child's eyes. She films the world around her with great innocence, despite the horrific nature of her subject matter. It's not naiveté, it's something far deeper. Her nature is to see the good even when evil is staring down at her. Your daughter is something beautiful, Harry, and you'd be a fool not to see it." She turned back to him and reached out to touch his bare chest. "I've admired her work since she began making films – I saw Water for Tears and thought how lovely it would be to meet the woman behind the camera."

He sighed and said, "She's… complicated."

"We all are," she reminded him gently. "You can't be too hard on her, though. She's been terribly good about the fact that you sent Danny in to spy on her."

Harry flinched. "He slept with her, you know."

"Like I said – she's not naive. Just… innocent." Ruth reached out and tugged at the towel around his waist. "She's coming onto the Grid, right? Invite her round to ours for dinner."

"Ruth, that's not a good idea – she doesn't know about you. Or the girls."

"I know," she said softly. "But it's time that she did, isn't it?"

"That could go incredibly badly," he warned.

She shrugged and said, "Yes, but it will be far worse if you wait and spring it on her." She carefully released his towel, letting it fall to the floor. "Oh, dear… whoops. Now you're naked. Whatever am I going to do about that?"

He didn't reply; she took a couple of steps forward and kissed her way down his torso, over his belly, down lower… And he groaned in pleasure.

* * *

"Ruth, Harry's asking for you," Adam said as he crossed the Grid.

She hesitated, then nodded, rising from her seat and taking a few of the operation files. She was meant to help him debrief Catherine with the non-essential things, but maybe he had already done it… She couldn't believe how nervous she was about meeting his daughter.

It hadn't been a lie, what she'd said about admiring Catherine's filmmaking skills. It had just been necessary to share that bit of her life with Gareth with him; they'd both been fascinated with documentaries and had spent thousands of hours together watching them. Catherine Townsend's work had been at the forefront of Ruth's admiration.

Ruth stepped into Harry's office after hesitantly knocking. He shot her a suffering look and said, "Ruth, you never knock unless there's a problem, so why begin now?"

She looked at him sheepishly. "Well, maybe I didn't want to interrupt you if you were speaking to Ms. Townsend –" she began.

Harry rolled his eyes and moved to close the door. "Catherine, this is Ruth. Ruth, my daughter, Catherine. Now that the awkward bit is over –"

Catherine laughed. "Dad, everything is awkward with you," she accused. "And, by the way, your officers need better names. Chris? Ruth?"

"Uh," Ruth said, "Ruth is actually my name. My proper name." She hesitated a moment, then extended her hand nervously. "Ruth Evershed," she supplied. "I'm a great fan of Water for Tears, by the way – the way you handled the poisoning of the oasis was astounding to me… I've never cried in a cinema like I cried then. Not even when I was dragged to the travesty that was Titanic."

Catherine looked at Harry and said, "Did you bribe her to say that?"

Harry shook his head. "No, that was all Ruth."

Catherine smiled at his honesty and shook Ruth's hand enthusiastically. "I still keep in touch with the family that own that piece of land," she said. "There's nothing left alive there. It's almost worse than the oasis drying up…"

Ruth frowned and said, "I can imagine – going from everything lush and verdant to suddenly dark and dead… it must have been devastating for them, not just economically. All that history, lost because some bloody conflict made someone desperate and poison the only source of water for several hundred miles. The human race is full of opportunistic bastards."

Catherine nodded. "My thoughts exactly – you seem to be more in tune with the world than the other two dad had in here," she commented dryly. "Keep her, dad."

Harry smiled slightly. "My intentions exactly," he commented. "Adam and Sam weren't particularly good at articulating the contents of the debrief, Ruth. Maybe you can go over the finer points with Catherine, as you seem to speak her language."

Ruth smiled at him and said, "Certainly, Harry." She sat down next to Catherine and ran over the non-classified points of the operation, including Harry's overbearing bits that he now found rather embarrassing as she laid them out in fine point. When she was finished, she said, "And now we're ready to do the final paperwork and close the files."

"I had no idea…" Catherine began.

"I'll tell you a secret," Ruth said softly, leaning in closely to her. "Your dad was more concerned with your welfare than any other aspect of the operation. For what it's worth." She got up and made to leave, but Harry stopped her.

"Ruth, stay," he said. "Catherine… I know I've been… an absent father, but Ruth has a point. I was more concerned for your health and safety than the rest of the operation. I still see you as my little girl, no matter how old you are and I –"

"Dad," Catherine said, holding up her hand. "Stop. You've done unforgiveable things –"

Ruth gently held Harry's arm for a moment. "Unforgiveable things are never forgotten," she said in her placating manner. "But you have to accept them to move on. Harry isn't the same man he was when you were a child – he's a good man, Catherine. You must give him a chance to prove to you that he is. Will you please come over and join us for dinner tonight?"

There was a moment of silence before all hell broke loose.

"Oh my GOD, dad, you sent your MISTRESS in to talk to me?" Catherine exploded. "What the fresh hell even?"

Harry stepped between Ruth and Catherine and said, "Ruth is not my mistress. She is my wife. She invited you into our home, Catherine, and I expect you to respect me enough to understand that we don't make the offer lightly."

Catherine's face turned beet red. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child, dad," she snapped furiously.

Ruth said, "Innocent, Harry, not naive." She bit her lower lip and gently stroked his back, trying to calm him down and bring him back from the edge. "Catherine, I would love it if you came over," she said softly.

"I really don't know if I should care what you want," Catherine said indignantly.

"Your father is a good man," Ruth said. "He wants to atone for how he's treated you in the past – you have to give him a chance to prove that to you, don't you?"

Harry, wisely, stayed silent as Ruth tried to unruffled Catherine's feathers.

"Fine," Catherine finally spat. "But if I find out that this is a ruse just to get me in a place where I'm unbalanced –"

"No," Ruth said gently. "I didn't mean for you to find out about us like this. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry." She stepped out from behind Harry and said, "I really do enjoy your films."

A muscle in Catherine's cheek twitched, and she said, "Email me where I'm meant to go, dad. I need to leave before I say something I might regret." She disappeared from the office, leaving Harry and Ruth in her wake.

"Well, that was… traumatizing," Harry exhaled.

"She's coming over for supper, though," Ruth pointed out.

He looked at her and said, "Is that meant to be a good thing?"

She rubbed his arm and murmured, "Maybe."

He sighed. "She asked about the picture of us – you, me, and the girls," he admitted. "I deflected the question and didn't answer her. I'm not ashamed of you; the complete opposite, in fact. But I couldn't tell her that I'm married with a whole other family… It would have broken her completely."

She held his hand and squeezed it. "Maybe the girls will change her mind," she suggested softly.

"We need wine, and lots of it," he commented wryly.

* * *

Daisy was running for the door before Harry or Ruth could stop her. "Shit," Harry swore, forgetting his buggered knee and running after her.

She still got there before him and had the door opened wide in a split second. "Hello, are you Catherine?" Daisy asked with a huge smile.

Catherine looked down the entryway at Ruth, who was behind Harry and Daisy, having arrived entirely too late to stop what was happening. Ruth said, "Catherine, this is my daughter, Margaret – we call her Daisy."

"You're my big sister because Mister Harry is my daddy now," Daisy said excitedly, grabbing Catherine's hand. "I'm nine – how old are you?"

"Twenty-six," Catherine said in a hollow tone as she followed the little girl inside.

"Fuck," Harry spat when he tried to put weight back on his knee. Ruth immediately rushed to steady him. "Bugger my knee," he exhaled in pain.

"Come on, let's get you sat down," Ruth murmured. "No more running for you." He leaned heavily against her and she shouted, "Rose, can you get me an ice pack? Harry's hurt his knee running after your sister –"

Rose appeared from the kitchen where she'd been helping Ginny finish cooking dinner with an ice bag in hand. She glared at Daisy, who didn't have the sense to look guilty – she was too busy showing Catherine about the place.

Catherine looked dazed and confused. "What is this?" she finally asked, her voice tiny and hurt. "You can't talk to me or Graham but you can play happy families with them?"

Harry's face was drawn and pale as he struggled with his pain and his emotions where his daughter was concerned. "Catherine, it's not like that," he exhaled weakly. "Would you have answered the phone if I'd called you?"

"No," she said.

"Ruth and the girls have shown me the true meaning of Christmas," he said in a flippantly sarcastic tone. When she looked at him with indignation, he amended, "I've been given a second chance to be a father figure in someone's life and I'm not throwing it away."

Daisy looked between Harry and Catherine, then said, "He's a good dad." The words were spoken with the firm conviction of a child's innocence. "He loves us. All of us." She pulled her sister to the wall of photographs to show her everything that Ruth had put up – photos of the girls, of Ruth and Gareth, of Harry and his family. Front and center were two photographs: a family portrait of the Eversheds and a family portrait of a young Pearce family. She didn't want them to think that they were not loved, not wanted, just because Harry wasn't in their lives. The wall was a place of memorial and hope, where lines between them blurred and became indistinct. They were a family, flaws and all. "See?" Daisy said.

Catherine glanced over at Harry with tears in her eyes. "Dad, I –"

"I don't expect you to forgive me," Harry said softly. "I just want… I want to move forward, Catie. Please give me a chance."

Ginny came out of the kitchen and said, "Dinner's ready, if anyone's hungry… I'm going out with my mates for the night, so I'll see you in the morning."

"Please tell me she's not your kid, too," Catherine said.

Ruth made a face at Ginny and snorted. "No, she's the nanny," she said dismissively.

"Gee, thanks, Ruth," Ginny laughed.

Catherine laughed in relief. "Good – I was thinking it was about to get that much worse –"

"No," Harry said. "We're just a little family with Rose and Daisy and Ruth and me…"

Scarlett trotted into the room and barked.

"C'mere, Scarlett," Rose called. "Let's go out to the garden, sweet girl." The puppy bounded after her.

Harry said, "Daisy, why don't you go set the table?"

"Okay, daddy," she said, heading out of the room.

Harry looked at Catherine and said, "I've never not been proud of you, Catie. I love you and your brother something fierce and I hate myself every day for hurting you. I was young and stupid, selfish. I've changed, thanks to Ruth and her girls. But I would sell my soul to take back all of the hurt I've caused you and Graham."

Catherine's face softened, and she said, "I know – I – I see now."

Ruth said softly, "Even without meeting you, you've been a part of my family. You're Harry's, so now you're mine, too."

Catherine blushed a little and said, "I'm sorry I shouted – it's just a bit of a surprise –"

"I thought you might break out the big guns and start throwing things," Harry admitted, laughing a little.

"Only if you provoke it," Catherine joked good-naturedly.

"Like the time I kept you from going to the dance because there was going to be hard liquor and I wasn't about to lose sleep carrying your drunk ass home?" he challenged. He looked at Ruth. "She threw a Bible at me, little blasphemer."

Ruth laughed. "Why, Harry, I didn't know you actually owned a Bible when you don't believe…"

"It was mum's," Catherine interjected, deadpan.

It was the catalyst they needed to dissolve into hysterical laughter.

END PART SIXTEEN


	17. Chapter 17

Seventeen:  
Family Christmas

Ruth opened one eye as she woke up, feeling Harry's fingertips making lazy circles on her back, beneath the hem of the top of her flannel pajamas. "Mmm, good morning," she murmured, yawning. "Feels like it's too early to get up. We just went to bed, didn't we?"

He chuckled and said, "That's what we get for being parents."

"Good parents," she corrected him. Ruth leaned in and gave him a lazily passionate kiss. "I can't wait to see their faces."

"Ginny was happy to go see her mum," Harry said. "I think that was one of the best presents we could've given her…"

She smiled and kissed him again. "Yes," she agreed.

"Of course, that means we have to entertain your family…" he pointed out.

She laughed. "Yes, well – it could always be worse," she murmured. "We could be alone and apart."

"Don't even jest," Harry growled.

"Do you think the girls are up?" Ruth asked softly.

"It's nearly seven – I think it's a good possibility," he said.

She pouted and said, "Do you think they'll mind if we don't get up right away?"

"Naughty girl," he teased, giving her a kiss. "But I like the way you think…"

She wiggled her hips against him and was rewarded with a low groan. "Oh you do, do you?" she teased, smiling when he immediately sought to kiss her.

In short order, they were both mostly naked – or at least pantsless – and moaning with pleasure as they came together. He filled her with a deep thrust, and she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his waist, holding him close. They moved in tandem, a rhythm all their own, fingers and tongues tangling like their bodies. It was fast, intense, and so beautiful because it was just them, expressing the things they had to repress in front of other people. She felt bliss explode from her every pore as she came, and she cried her release into the knotted flesh of Harry's recently wounded shoulder. He stilled and gasped out a declaration of devotion against her neck as he fell over the edge.

She didn't mind when his arms gave out and he collapsed against her – mostly because he was really a cuddly teddy bear beneath that gruff exterior. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. "Happy Christmas, Harry," Ruth whispered.

Eventually, he slid out of her and rolled away, taking her with him till they were face to face on their sides, smiling and sharing sweet kisses. "I don't want to think about not having you like this in the mornings," Harry admitted softly. "Because it's too wonderful to know I do have you."

"You're so sweet, and completely full of it, you old softie," she murmured. She wanted to stay in this moment forever, happy and loved, but she knew that the girls would be getting up – if they hadn't already – and would be wanting breakfast and presents. She kissed him one more time, then got up, looking ridiculous in just her button-down flannel pajama top and her woolen bedsocks.

He watched her and said, "Come back to bed –"

"You forget that we've got two kids in the house," she said, going into the en suite and peeling off her top before ducking into the shower. Like hell she was going downstairs without getting cleaned up, especially with her mother and step-family – and Elise and Rob – arriving in a few hours' time.

He joined her in the shower a couple of minutes later, helping her lather up and get clean. He couldn't easily lift his arm to wash her hair, but he did try at least, before he gave up. She, on the other hand, took great pleasure in washing him from head to toe, a smile on her lips the whole time. It wasn't often that they were allowed the luxury of so much time together, and she wanted to indulge.

Eventually, they made it downstairs to find Rose finishing up buttering a stack of toast. Daisy was pouring juice and getting fruit out of the fridge, and Ruth felt a visceral stab of pride that she'd managed to raise such good kids. They had their moments, but she began to think that maybe… maybe she'd done well.

"Mummy!" Daisy said. "I was going to come get you and daddy in a few minutes – we've been making breakfast."

"So I see," Ruth said with a smile. "Happy Christmas, love," she added, giving Daisy a kiss and a hug. She moved round to Rose and did the same for her, earning happy smiles from the girls.

"I wanted to make eggs," Rose said, "but I'm not supposed to use the stove."

Ruth swept in and got a skillet out and made scrambled eggs in the span of a few minutes. They all settled in for breakfast, and Harry said, "I'm surprised you two weren't already tearing open your gifts…"

"Breakfast always comes first," Rose said with a little smile. "And then presents."

"That's right," Ruth said with a smile, reaching for the cherry jam.

Harry captured her hand and raised it to his lips. "I think your mum should be an exception to that rule, just this once," he said, pulling a small jewelry box out of his pocket and placing it in the palm of her hand. "Happy Christmas, Ruth."

"Oh, mummy, open it," Daisy insisted, shoving another bite of toast into her mouth.

Ruth opened the box and looked up at Harry with tears in her eyes. "Oh, Harry –"

"Now, I know you said we don't need rings, but…" He shrugged a little and fell silent. After a moment or two, he said, "I bought a plain band for myself, but for you…"

She brushed back tears and murmured, "It's lovely – thank you, Harry." She let him slip the ring onto her finger. It was very simple rose gold with inlaid gemstones – the girls' birthstones, as well as hers and his – but the love, intent, and purpose behind the ring meant more than the elegance of the jewelry. He kissed her knuckles, and she whispered, "Thank you – I – when did you –"

"Oh, shush, you," he scolded. "Eat your breakfast so we can open gifts."

"Can I see, mum?" Rose asked. Ruth extended her hand so her daughter could look at the ring, and Rose smiled widely. "Harry has good taste, mum – it's so pretty with all the colors."

"I hope Father Christmas didn't bring me any jewelry," Daisy said. "I would only lose it. I'm bad about losing nice things." She looked sad for a moment, then shook it off and smiled. "Come on, mummy, let's go open presents."

Ruth felt horrible for that split second when Daisy was upset, remembering two Christmases past, when Gareth had given Daisy a lovely antique locket for a special present. The chain had broken a few days later when she was out playing in the snow and the locket had been lost. He'd shouted and punished her by keeping her away from the sweets at teatime for almost a month – near unto painful torture for the little girl.

She pushed her plate with an unfinished slice of toast into the middle of the table. "I'm done, love," Ruth said, drinking the last of her juice. "Why don't you take Scarlett outside and then we'll open presents."

"Okay, mummy," Daisy agreed, running to get her coat. She put Scarlett on her lead and took her out into the back garden.

While she was out, Ruth enlisted Rose's help to carry a huge antique dollhouse out of the cupboard beneath the stairs, setting it out on the Nativity table that she and Harry had cleaned off the night before after the girls went to bed. She only hoped that Daisy would enjoy it.

When Daisy and Scarlett came back inside, Harry was waiting to scoop up the little dog and shower her with affection. Daisy giggled and said, "Daddy, you love Scarlett more than you love Rose and me."

Harry responded by leaning over and giving her a big, sloppy kiss. Daisy laughed more and wiped at her face. "Yuck!"

Ruth smiled and said, "Daisy, it looks like Father Christmas brought you something…"

Daisy whirled around and gasped. "Mummy! Is that for me? Is it really for me?" she asked, dancing around and looking at the dollhouse as if she was afraid to touch it. "Oh, it's so pretty! Look, there's even flowers in the garden, mummy!"

"Does that mean you like it?" Harry asked worriedly. He'd been out interviewing an asset when he'd seen it in the shop window and called Ruth. She'd told him to buy it immediately and have Mike go round to pick it up in one of the surveillance vans. It was positively enormous and absolutely beautiful, done in a Tudor revival style, and she had never been so proud to give such a gift in her life.

Daisy clapped her hands and squealed. "I love it, daddy, I love it!"

Harry and Ruth shared a delighted smile, and settled in on the couch with their girls to open the rest of their gifts.

* * *

"The turkey is almost done," Elise said with a smile. "You've done well this year, Ruth –"

"Yes, well, I had incentive," Ruth replied with a chuckle. "Harry hates goose, so… turkey it was."

"He really is good for Daisy and Rose," Elise said. "I see a change in them –"

Ruth nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "They're far happier."

"So are you."

Ruth tried to hide a smile. "Yes," she finally said. "I am."

"Your mum is going to flip her shit," Elise said. "She's always been a bit… uppity."

Ruth blushed and murmured, "I'm afraid it'll be World War Three up in here because Harry used to work with Angela. And he knows of Peter."

"Oh, bloody hell," Elise mumbled. "Of course your mum and David are dragging them along…"

Ruth smiled a little and held up her wooden spoon. "It wouldn't be Christmas without the fireworks and someone breaking a bottle of wine," she said with false cheer.

"Does Harry know what he's gotten himself into?" Elise asked.

"If you're referring to a family gathering," Harry said as he came into the kitchen and nicked a tomato from the salad, "yes, I'm afraid I can beat all of your dire predictions of a pyrotechnic display…"

Ruth licked her lips nervously and said, "Yes, well, at least Angela will be smart enough to lay off the whiskey – as opposed to last year."

"What happened last year?" Harry asked.

Elise said, "There was some nudity involved. I saw entirely more of Angela Wells than I think I ever wanted to."

Harry blinked. "Bloody hell."

"Yeah, well, we were still at Cheltenham then, so at least I could bundle her up and send her home with mum and David," Ruth said quickly. "The only reason she and Peter come over for Christmas is because our girls have Peter wrapped around their little fingers. He's their only uncle, and he thinks the world of them." She got very quiet, thinking about the past, about how he'd once thought the world of her… but in a different, much more menacing way. The way she'd escaped by marrying Gareth, or so she'd thought then.

"I see," Harry said.

She couldn't look at him, couldn't let him see what she was feeling. Better to hide it, smother it, pretend it didn't exist. Better to be happy with Harry in the now than miserable in the past.

There was giggling from the living room and Harry said, "They're playing games with Rob. One of the new ones you gave Rose."

Ruth shrank a little under his gentle touch, then met his concerned gaze with a wan smile. "Good," she said. "I'm glad I chose well."

He gave her a gentle kiss and whispered, "And thank you for my gift… I shall enjoy a case of excellent single malt immensely."

"But you didn't like the tie?" she asked, hating that she sounded needy and anxious.

He held her hand and smiled. "The tie wasn't strictly necessary," he said. "I already got the best Christmas present I could have ever hoped for." He paused. "You, Ruth. You and the girls."

She smiled and gave him a kiss. "Softie," Ruth accused.

"Only where you're concerned, I'm afraid," he said.

The doorbell rang and Ruth bit her lip. "Moment of truth, then," she said, releasing Harry's hand and going to the door. She opened it and gasped in surprise. "Catherine?"

Catherine smiled and sheepishly said, "Sorry – I had to be at mum's so I'm a little late, but I thought that Rose and Daisy might like a few more gifts…"

Harry came up behind Ruth, confused. "Catherine, aren't you meant to be in Israel?" he asked.

"I always come home for Christmas," Catherine said. "Mum insists."

"Yes, but… what are you doing HERE?" he asked.

"She brought presents for the girls," Ruth said, "and she's probably freezing – come in and take your coat off. Are you going to stay for supper?"

"If you want me to," Catherine murmured.

"I'd love it," Ruth said truthfully. Once Catherine had gotten past the 'blame the parents' stage, she was quite lovely and Ruth felt very pleased to tuck her neatly into place in their life. But this willingness to come and openly display affection surprised her a bit.

She was just about to close the door when she saw her mother's car pull up out front. Ruth sighed and stepped outside. "Hello," she called down the walk. "Dinner's almost ready – Elise is just putting the finishing bits on the turkey for me."

"Oh, no goose?" Angela asked.

Ruth smiled a little. "No… not this year. Maybe next."

Peter bustled up the walk and gave Ruth a tight, quick hug. She didn't struggle, though she wanted to, but instead gave him a brief, cordial kiss on the cheek. "The girls have been asking about you," she said. "They'll love it if you play one of their new games with them."

Peter nodded. "Of course, Ruthie –"

"Please don't call me that," she requested. "I'm not a child. My name is Ruth."

"Sorry – Ruth."

Elizabeth wrapped Ruth up in a tight hug. "How are you holding up, love?"

Ruth smiled. "Mum, I'm fine," she assured her. "The girls are fine, I'm fine… we're good."

"It's your first Christmas without Gareth –"

"Mum, I promise, we're fine," Ruth repeated.

Angela was busy looking at Ruth's left hand, and she said, "Oi, I see you're just fine – who's the lucky bloke you shacked up with, then?"

"Bloody hell," Ruth sighed. "Fine, look, okay… yes, I got married to a very nice man, a good man, who loves my children as his own and he loves me. It's not exactly rocket science, is it?"

"You got married?" David said. "You've only just been widowed –"

Ruth said, "You all better come in before we let all the heat out." Scarlett bounded up to the front door and barked at the new arrivals, bouncing up and down. "Yes, you silly thing," Ruth sighed, picking up the puppy and cuddling her. She gave her a kiss and got a sound lick in reply. She set the dog back down on the floor and said, "Go get daddy, Scarlett. Go get daddy!" The dog tore off in search of Harry, no doubt.

"A dog, too? You are a dark horse, Ruth," Angela said a little snidely.

"Uncle Peter!" Rose cried, flying down the hall into Peter's arms. "I'm so happy to see you – will you come play Scrabble with me? Daisy's getting cross because she can't spell so well. And Catherine will play, too – please? Oh please!"

Ruth retreated to the kitchen, in the hope of letting everyone else do what they would. She didn't really want to play games, just get the food on the table so they could eat and leave. She really wanted to go upstairs and treat Harry to an intimate display of her new jewelry…

Elise had just pulled the turkey out when Ruth came in. "Are they here, then?" she asked kindly, with a small amount of pity.

"Yeah," Ruth said softly.

Harry came into the kitchen and said, "Ruth, I'm not sure I should go into the living room what with all of your guests and me not having been introduced –"

"Oh, yes," she said, closing her eyes. "God, Harry, you must think I'm daft."

"No, you're just stressed out a bit," he said gently, coming over and wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her neck and murmured, "I can think of a few ways to relieve that tension…"

Angela breezed into the kitchen and did a quick double take. "Holy shit – Harry Pearce? Ruth, you bloody married Harry Pearce? Oh – oh my god."

Ruth got one of the bottles of red wine off the counter and passed it over. "You're going to need this," she said firmly. "Because one word about work and your ass is on the block."

Angela's eyes widened, and she said, "Uh, yes. I understand."

For once, Ruth was going to be in bloody control of Christmas dinner. It felt good.

END PART SEVENTEEN


	18. Chapter 18

Eighteen:  
Moments of Clarity

About quarter after ten or so, Ruth was getting tired. Harry had left hours earlier for meetings and such, and was likely to return to the Grid after midnight, if not later. He wouldn't be going home till the crisis with the G&J key was past. If it passed.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, working the crick out of her neck quickly and efficiently, glad that Ginny was keeping a good eye on the kids for her. She was almost ready to pack it in, but she kept feeling like if she tried just a little longer, if she searched with just one slightly different parameter… it would make all the difference. God is in the details…

Andrew came up beside her desk and stopped. It was well within professional boundaries, and she was all right with that. "I think you need to brush up on a little concept called sleep," he said.

"I vaguely recall the notion," she said. "Is it all it's cracked up to be?"

"Yes, it's actually mandatory – check your user manual," he replied.

She missed this kind of banter with people – the Grid was always too serious or too silly. Ruth supposed what she was doing was harmless flirting, but really… he meant nothing to her beyond another colleague. So she took it back to business. "Any hits yet?"

"No, but there's always tomorrow."

"Another day, another manhunt," she said wryly. "Sometimes, it seems never-ending." She paused. "Oh, yes – there's something else you can throw into the mix. The more that I think about this guy, the choices he's made, the way his mind works… he really likes his history. It's not just something he's casually picked up. And I'm pretty sure it's not the first time he's used such references in his work. He'll have used them before; references from the same period or even from Muslim history or literature. Like the poetry he quoted in the faxes. He _loves_ this stuff. " She noticed that he wasn't saying anything, but she pressed on. "We need to cross-reference our search with usernames, domain names, software titles. The personal touch is always hard to hide. What do you think?" Maybe she got a little carried away; he didn't look nearly as eager as she felt.

"I think we should definitely look into that." He paused a long moment. "Tomorrow."

"Yeah, you're right," she agreed, wondering if everyone just humored her when she got in her diligent moods. She knew Harry loved it, but he could flick it off again like a switch, and she went back to normal. Everyone else, not so much.

He started to walk away, then turned back. "I know it's late, but have you had dinner yet?"

She paused. "I can't imagine who would feed us at this hour. Even the nanny doesn't reheat when we're out this late," she said.

"Well, if I may be so bold – I make a pretty decent carbonara…"

She hesitated a moment, then said, "Why not?"

"I'll find us a taxi and meet you outside," he said.

"Okay," she said, hoping he'd understand that she was only agreeing for the promise of a hot meal. There would be nothing else; how could there be?

* * *

When she came to, she was tied to the banister, her arms already aching intensely from being held in the same position for god only knows how long. She'd become complacent, then, after Zoe's trial and subsequent escape from the authorities, because Ruth hadn't seen it coming that Andrew Forestell was their cyberterrorist. Even as she'd quoted back Abu Nuwas to him, it had only just kicked out at her…

But then she realized that he'd drugged either her food or her wine, and he'd merely been playing along till it kicked in.

And now she was tied up and at his mercy.

But what was he doing? Sitting on his ass in front of the computer.

"Andrew," she slurred, her tongue oddly thick and unwieldy in her mouth. "I need water –"

He came out of the adjacent room and looked at her dispassionately. "Do you need the loo?" he asked.

"No," she mumbled, "just water. And the ability to go home –"

"You were the only one that could have put it together," Andrew said. "I had to get you away from them, keep you away –"

She shook her head and said, "Andrew, you don't really want to do this –"

"Don't I?" he said. "Don't I want to earn my royalties from something I was kept from? It was more than half my work and I was just shut out –"

She swallowed, the action hard. "Please may I have some water," Ruth murmured.

He walked away and came back a minute later with a glass of water. He helped her drink, then set it out of reach. "Why did you have to be so good at what you do, Ruth?" Andrew asked coldly. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I should hope not kill me," she breathed. "I've got a family, Andrew – two little girls who need their mother –"

"There are many people in the world that have families," he reminded her. "And how many of them are going to die today? What makes you different? What makes you special?"

"You can use me," she said quickly. "I'm not going anywhere – I'm your hostage. Use me as leverage. If there's one thing Harry can't stand, it's the thought of me in danger." She was wheeling and dealing, praying she had enough time before he decided she wasn't useful anymore and killed her. She knew Andrew wasn't aware that she was married to Harry, and she could use that to her advantage. "Make your demands. Make them. But make sure you let them know that you have me – that you're not willing to give in."

He cocked his head and regarded her for a moment. "Do you expect me to think that you're trying to help me?" Andrew asked.

"Why would I help a terrorist?" she asked. "I'm just pointing out that you're working against the might of the British Security Services here and they're just going to pat you on the head if you don't prove you mean business."

"Will killing you on camera prove anything?" he asked.

"Why kill me? I'm a spook, Andrew: there's nothing more in the world that I love more than a good secret."

He shook his head and sighed. "You don't play fair, Ruth."

"Neither do you," she pointed out.

His lips drew together into a firm line. "You haven't said a word about your husband. All this time, you've talked about your kids, but not him… do you still care for him?"

"More than anything," she said with conviction.

"Too bad he won't see you before you're gone," Andrew said coldly.

If only he knew.

What Andrew did seem to know was that the jig was up, and as soon as they realized that Ruth was missing, they would figure out who was behind the whole plot. He got out his camera and set it up to record video of Ruth tied to his staircase, gagged.

"Now that I have your attention," he said, whipping the camera around, "you have two minutes to get the diamonds to the roof of Thames House for removal. Don't think that I won't hesitate to harm Ruth. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

She moaned and coughed when he removed her gag again – it had been too tight and she'd thrown up in her mouth a number of times against the fabric. "Andrew, they won't give in to this," she warned him. "Your terrorism. Harry won't save me over the rest of the country – the rest of the world."

"I think he will recognize your value… but now you better be quiet or things will get ugly."

She closed her eyes and tried to fight the pain in her upper body and the exhaustion that had settled over her. He must have drugged the last glass of water he'd brought her, because she felt everything slipping away again…

She woke up to a horrible clatter, and the feeling of something heavy on her foot. She looked down and saw Andrew laid splayed across the floor, his hand gripping her boot. Diamonds were scattered all around them and she shied away from him. Clearly, they had been tampered with, else he wouldn't be dead. She couldn't touch them, couldn't stand to be anywhere near them –

"Ruth!"

"Danny!" she cried. "In here – I'm – I'm all right."

Danny was immediately there, untying her, helping her up. Her legs were numb from being sat in one position for so long, and it took a few steps before she wasn't leaning on him exclusively. "Harry is rather pissed off," Danny warned. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I've been drugged and tied up, held hostage by a mad computer genius, and all I want is a cup of tea and a biscuit," she admitted. "And my family. I want my family, Danny."

Adam was already on the phone. "Harry, Andrew is dead – Ruth is fine," he said, crossing the room.

"It's such a waste," Ruth breathed. "Andrew could have done so much…"

"It's all right, Ruth," Danny tried to assure her.

"He was just so… alone."

"It's all right, it's all right – it's all over now, okay?" Danny said quietly.

She clung to him and said, "Promise me – you promise me that we'll never end up as broken or as bitter." She knew it was an impossible promise to make, but she needed to know that the world wasn't full of awful, horrible things and people who would just as soon kill you as breathe the same air as you.

"I promise, Ruth – I promise," Danny murmured, helping her the last few steps to the ambulance. The medic covered her with a red blanket and helped her up into the ambulance. Harry was waiting for her, and she just looked at him. She didn't think she could face the fear, anger, and pity in his eyes, but she did anyway, not looking away, not flinching.

Later, at the hospital, he finally found his voice as they were waiting for her final paperwork and prescriptions. "Why did you go with him, Ruth?" They were words of jealousy, anger, and she knew that any answer she gave would likely be the wrong one.

"I was tired," she said, "and I'm sick of reheated meals." She reached over and took his hand. "He offered me a hot, fresh meal, and I'm afraid I was selfish and said yes. It was only dinner, Harry. We talked about GCHQ and old times, and how much things have changed in the last two years. That's all. And then I realized it was him, but it was too late. He'd drugged my food – or the wine – and I wasn't going to be able to get away." She took a deep breath. "So I convinced him to use me as leverage, so you'd at least know where I was."

The raw hurt on his face was enough to make her want to cry. "I almost lost you," he said very quietly. "Do you have any idea –"

"Yes," she whispered. "I do."

"Did you think about the girls or me –"

"I did," she murmured. "You were all I could think of when I was awake. I didn't want to leave you, not apurpose, Harry." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Promise me you won't send me away from my desk for a while?"

"Ruth, this has just shown me that you're not safe in the field OR at your desk," he said, leaning into her touch. "I need you to take some of the self-defense classes and learn to carry a weapon…"

"Harry, this is all a bit much – can't we just wait and talk about it tomorrow when the fear isn't so raw? I'm not going anywhere. Nothing is going to happen. I'm okay."

"But you don't know that something isn't going to happen," he said darkly. "I had no idea when I went back to the office this morning that you'd disappeared – I thought you'd just gone home. And then I saw that video and I swear to you, I lost my mind." Harry frowned and said, "I might have thrown a bottle of whiskey across my office – and broken a window panel."

"Understandable," she murmured, drawing him down for a gentle kiss. "But if you worry all the time, it will consume you. It'll eat you alive, Harry."

He kissed her back, then pressed their foreheads together. She felt a couple of his tears land on her face, and she just held him gently. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you more," she murmured.

He pulled back and straightened his tie, trying to cover up that he'd shed tears. "So, I have to go back to the office – but tonight, I want to take you out. Wine and dine you, and make sure you know that there is an alternative to microwaved leftovers and some other bloke's pasta," he said firmly. "I intend to get you blind drunk and have my wicked way with you."

She laughed a little and said, "You don't have to get me drunk to have sex with me."

"I know, but you're so much freer with your affections when you've had a bottle or two of wine," he pointed out. "And I love you being free –"

She smiled and gave him a kiss. "I love you, Harry Pearce, but I think I'm going to abstain from the wine if you don't mind. At least for a while. You never know when someone might drug you," she reminded him softly.

He frowned, his brow creasing. "Well, then…"

"But instead of drinking, maybe we could go dancing?" she suggested softly. "And then home. Where we can make love until dawn."

"Oh," he said, a tiny smile tugging his lips upward. "I like that idea."

"Me, too," she agreed.

END PART EIGHTEEN


	19. Chapter 19

It's been a really long, hard week and this is the first chance I've had to update this story. Sorry, guys!

* * *

Nineteen:  
Together, Alone

Ruth was looking in her hand mirror and applying lip gloss as she gave her instructions to Sam. She really had somewhere to be – she and the girls were going to the theatre tonight, in an attempt to do something normal and fun like they'd used to do. They were going to a children's show, and that was all right.

Since they'd gone to her step-brother, Peter's, funeral the week before, everyone in the little family had been depressed, lethargic, and didn't want to do anything. Ruth was determined to change that; she was going to make the girls dress up and have fun if it killed them.

She added hastily, "Harry has a car booked for eight –" He was going to his club while she and the girls went out. She couldn't blame him, really – there were times when she wished she could escape motherhood as easily as he could slip off and go to his club to avoid the pains of fatherhood. But she always bucked it up and took up the slack. They were her children, after all, and she'd signed up for it.

Ruth would never forget the moment the nurse had laid Rose in her arms and the tiny baby's gurgling squalls had stopped as she realized that her mum was there and everything was okay. That moment had been repeated with Daisy, and Ruth always thought of those moments when she felt like she was a terrible mother, or when anything else went wrong. Because it was the only way she had to keep sane; parenting was the most difficult job she'd ever faced.

She'd just started to cross the Grid with her things in hand when Sam called, "Ruth? What junction does our man live off of?"

"Junction four," Ruth replied automatically.

"Then why is he coming off of junction three?"

Ruth all but ran back and watched over Sam's shoulder, praying it was just an anomaly, something she wouldn't have to worry about – but no. She exhaled heavily and said, "You better go get Harry." When Sam headed hurriedly to Harry's office, Ruth put her things away, got her hands-free headset, and called Ginny to cancel her plans for the night.

* * *

"Terrible timing, Ruth, I know, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to put an additional burden your way," Harry said, leading her into his office. She certainly hoped he meant professionally rather than personally, because she really couldn't handle any more pressure outside of Thames House at the moment.

"Of course, Harry," she said with false, bright enthusiasm that she hoped was just fake enough to pass muster.

"As you know, the Lord High Executioner, our Director General, is retiring at the end of the summer," he said, settling down on the sofa.

"Personal reasons," she said. She wouldn't go into it with him, but she knew the reasons and she was actually quite glad that he was going now instead of a couple years down the line when the lines between health and illness might blur.

"Exactly – personal reasons," he said, gesturing for her to sit down. She did, sensing that he was more than slightly nervous about talking to her about this from the tics and the twitches and the set of his jaw. "And they've asked me to apply for the position." Ah, hence the trepidation.

She was momentarily taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Well… that's great," she said with a little smile. It was certainly better than she'd thought the conversation would go. "Congratulations."

"Of course, it's not just me – there's a short list – but they want me to go for an interview. And when they 'invite' you, they make it very hard to say no," he said pointedly.

Inwardly, she wondered why he would want to say no – better pay, less danger, semi-regular hours where he could be home before her to help put supper on the table and help the girls with their homework… Hell, if they asked her, she would jump at the chance.

"But why would you want to say no, Harry?" she asked, needing to know. For their marriage and all their great affection toward one another, she still didn't know how he could think some of the things he did; she didn't understand his priorities.

"Well, when there's a mercenary using his skills to help a terrorist organization fire a guided missile at central London, I'd rather be here than lounging on the seventh floor," he pointed out.

"Well, I can help you prepare for the interview," she said softly. "Um, likely questions, stuff like that… Obvious things like the future of the service, plans, past operations, failings, threats – "

"Thank you, Ruth, but –"

"Not at the expense of our current operation," she added gently. "Or our little free time at home."

He reached over and took her hand, imploring her with his eyes. "And I'd appreciate this if you'd keep this to yourself," Harry said softly. "You know, kept it secret."

"Of course," she said, still smiling a little, glad that he was allowing that little intimacy within his hallowed shelter. "Isn't that what we're meant to be good at?" It was a teasing, tiny barb, but the way he closed his mouth and humphed a little, she knew he'd taken it the wrong way. She was meant to commiserate his nervousness and uncertainty, not make naively sarcastic comments; and she felt suddenly guilty.

She squeezed his hand and gave him a quick, fleeting kiss before she went back to her desk: they had no secrets left about their relationship. The whole team knew and as long as Harry was happy and not raising seven levels of hell on the Grid because she was withholding sex, they were content with it. So no one thought twice if they'd seen their brief conversation, and even less if they'd seen the kiss.

* * *

He looked more than slightly annoyed with her as she crossed the grid and called his name. "Harry!" The closer she got, the more irritated he seemed to get. Ruth might as well have just painted a target on her red blouse, but if she didn't make him uncomfortable about his place, ask him the hard questions, then why had he even asked her to help him prepare? "I'd like to ask about your personal strengths and weaknesses," she said, smirking ever so slightly at the thought that little old Ruth Evershed could rattle the great Harry Pearce's cage.

"Now isn't the right time, Ruth – haven't you noticed we're under some pressure?" His rebuke was gentle for her, whereas with anyone else, he would have been forceful.

"Which is why this is just the right time," she pointed out stubbornly. She was ready to go down fighting, toe to toe, out-stubborning the great man himself. Much the same way they'd gone a few rounds over whose turn it was to run the dishwasher the other night: eventually, he'd seen sense when she'd promised sex in return for hitting the bloody on button. Anything so she hadn't had to get up off the sofa just yet.

She followed him into his office and decided to stand while he sat – intimidation helped to put him in his place. "Do you think the end always justifies the means in an operation?" Ruth inquired, using her pen to illustrate the point.

"I would review each case on its individual merits," Harry replied.

She made a bit of a face, knowing that of course he'd say that. There was something to be said for someone who didn't keep to absolutes, but the idea of the DG actually reviewing everything was ridiculous. He had a staff whose job it was just to crunch the reports into digestible bits. She'd almost wound up on that staff, except Harry had rescued her from the jaws of certain doom. Good thing, too – counter-terrorism was much more entertaining.

"Don't you think it's better not to procrastinate on these questions?" she said, twisting the knife, reveling in the bit of torture. As much as he took credit for his own achievements, Harry was a mostly modest man, giving credit to others where it was due and lifting them up; this whole exercise had to be killing him inside. "It makes you sound too much like a politician."

"Well, perhaps they're looking for a politician!" Oh yes, she'd hit a nerve.

"But you said you didn't want the job because you like to know exactly what's going on at ground level," she shot back. "Do you think you always do?" Ruth asked, knowing the answer without even having to ask it of him.

The flippant enquiry served to focus him; just as it was meant to. "I think that my strengths are that I hold onto certain things that I think are important and good," he said in a measured, even tone – that meant that he was entertaining thoughts of turning her over his knee and spanking a bit of sense into her. She knew that tone too well, knew exactly what waited for her at home. "And referring to a certain ethical dimension in our work, we won't defeat terrorism by ruining democracy."

She hummed a little. "That's all very high-minded, but in practice, what does that mean? Does it mean results aren't everything? There's somewhere that you draw the line, isn't there?" It was a gentle refocusing on their current operation. They'd had a row in the car that morning about how Adam was going above and freaking beyond – Harry insisted it was all well and good, but she was bitterly opposed to torture. She had to live with his nightmares and the scars all over his body just as much as Harry did; torture and abuse were a slippery slope.

He blew her off, clearly not wanting to argue again. "I think that's enough for now, Ruth," Harry said in a very final kind of a way.

His dismissal stung, and she went back to her normal, shy retreating fashion. "I'm just enabling you to fail gracefully as requested," Ruth said softly.

"For which I will be eternally grateful," Harry rejoined semi-sarcastically.

She hesitated a moment before she decided to jump in head-first, blurring the lines between home and work again. "Hypothetically, Harry, you wouldn't forget about us, would you? When you're pacing the thickly carpeted floor of your new office."

He looked up, regarding her with a hint of something undecipherable in his eyes. "I didn't know that I paced, Ruth," Harry said, his voice softening a bit.

"Only in a good way," she murmured, turning and retreating tactfully. If he didn't know that she watched him from across the Grid, the man was stupid. He just needed to be reminded that she still loved him, desired him, cared so much as to worry when he paced up and down his office like a caged animal, tortured by some decision or another. He needed a reminder that when everyone else was gone, she would still be there for him; no matter what.

* * *

He waved a file at her. "I see the covert entry boys are doing their work on Morgan's life," he commented dryly.

"Harry," she said a bit hesitantly, "is there any area that we don't touch?"

"Ethics, here?" Harry said a bit too sharply, a bit too ironically considering their earlier interlude in his office.

"I'm serious," Ruth murmured. She'd debated whether or not to even bring this up, wondering how quickly she could lose the information that she'd dug up, her mothering instincts blinding her. "Say, to do with his family." She held up a photograph of a little girl who could have been Daisy but for the glasses and the messy hair – Daisy was quite particular about her curly hair being perfect. "Morgan's daughter Mary – she's eight. She needs a liver transplant. They're looking for a donor. She has her mother's surname; that's why we didn't find it before." He looked annoyed, befuddled, as to how Ruth could possibly have let this slip through her net. "And, look, he calls her all the time. And it's just possible that I just never came across this particular piece of information." She was defensive, suddenly, scared that he would see through the flimsiness and see a mum who was scared that someone could dare use her children against her in much the same fashion as Adam would contemplate using Mary against Morgan.

"Because you don't trust what Adam might do with it," Harry said, a statement of fact rather than a question. "We don't know where this is all going."

"We do know that it's nothing to do with the sick daughter," she said sharply. "You don't think she's got enough on her plate? I mean, do you never draw the line on this stuff?"

He couldn't meet her gaze, wouldn't answer her. That was answer enough, and she felt vaguely disappointed in him, in them, in everything. It was the first concrete moment when she knew that all of this normalcy, all of this happiness that they were carefully cultivating, was an illusion that could be taken away at any time because they dared be on the opposing side.

It was a sobering, if not outright terrifying, thought.

* * *

Harry was late coming back from Whitehall, but she'd waited, primping and applying her lipgloss and staring in the mirror, then starting all over again. She wanted to know if he'd gotten the job, but at the same time, her heart ached in ways that it never had before, hoping desperately that he hadn't. She'd seen too much, knew too much, and she didn't know if she could live with it if he was Director General.

She'd repurchased the tickets to The Little Princess and had actually gotten better seats; the girls and Ginny were meant to meet her at the theatre, but if she didn't leave very soon, she was going to be late.

Harry ambled across the empty Grid, shuffling a bit as he went. The cool weather was upsetting his buggered knee, and she felt momentarily sorry for him, though it went away when he began to speak with his usual unassuming arrogance. "See? Wrongs righted, evil-doers brought to heel, and miracles performed – is there no end to our goodness, Ruth?"

That arrogance and charm was part of why she was so damnably attracted to him, so she merely smiled at him, not saying a word.

He held out a piece of paper for her to examine. "I got down to the final two, then they parachuted a late contender into the job."

"But that's good, isn't it? It's what you wanted." It's what they both wanted, really – a status quo of some kind. Some kind of normal to measure everything else by. Nothing too grandiose, nothing too showy, just… a measuring stick of kinds.

"Yes, but it's still annoying when the best man for the job is passed over for a politician," he said pointedly. It was the one bit of pure ego he would allow himself, that, and she would let him have it. Maybe he was the best man for the job, but they clearly thought him better suited where he was right now. A case of timing and intention. "It seems you were right."

"Yes," she said softly, smiling her commiseration. "But I'm pleased." Pleased that he would still be there in that office, pleased that they would still be together, a well-oiled team. Pleased that she wouldn't have to go to the seventh floor to sneak a kiss.

"Yeah, well, I'm not," Danny said, coming up to them. "There's a scratch on the floor of my flat. Seems the removal men weren't careful enough when Fiona moved out."

"My point exactly," Harry said. "I wouldn't be involved in any of these crucial issues if I were DG." He turned to Danny. "We'll get the removal men in and set Adam on it; if anyone will get to the bottom of it, Adam will." He didn't even look at her as he said, "Off out are we, Ruth?"

"Yes," she said firmly, "with the girls – I'm only three days late." It wasn't even a subtle attempt at a rebuke or scathing sarcasm. It was blunt, bitter, and a bit pissy, if she had to tell the truth. She got up, bag in hand. "And if anything happens between here and the pods, don't tell me."

She was almost all the way across the Grid when Harry called, "Ruth!"

"I'm not listening!" she shouted back over her shoulder.

She heard him laughing that genuine laugh of mirth, the one with the slightly hysterical raspy quality mixed in with that Muttley guffaw – how the man could be so devastatingly sexy and then laugh like that and spoil it all, she'd never know – and she held back a smile. She paused at the pods and turned back. "By the way, it's your turn to run the dishwasher," she shouted.

"I did it last time!" he whined.

And so it began again.

END PART NINETEEN


	20. Chapter 20

Twenty:  
Alone, Together

Ruth was eating her lunch, having a time of it with her noodle soup, when Fiona came over and sat down. Fiona was carrying a sandwich, an apple, and a cup of coffee, so it was clear that she was inviting herself to lunch; what Ruth wanted to know was _why_ she was inviting herself to lunch. She didn't have anything against Fiona Carter in particular, but she'd never actively sought her out to become chummy pals, either.

"Mind if I eat with you?" Fiona asked, pulling up a chair and offering Ruth no chance to turn her down, especially as Ruth's mouth was full of udon noodles and mushrooms.

"No, not at all," Ruth said as soon as she could speak again. "Did Adam get himself in the doghouse again?"

"No, Harry's got him out meeting an asset," Fiona replied. "So I'm all by my lonesome for lunch."

Ruth quelled the urge to roll her eyes. Harry was always off doing something at lunch time and you didn't see her swanning about and making a scene about it. Of course, it would be nice once in a while to socialize with him rather than just seeing each other in bed or in passing at the dinner table – if he made it home in time for dinner. That just sounded like sour grapes, though, and it wasn't as if she hadn't known what she was getting herself into by marrying him. He was a workaholic, and by rights, so was she.

Fiona cleared her throat. "So… I thought we could talk. Get to know one another a bit, since we don't, really." She smiled a little.

"Well, no, because you're a field officer and I'm a desk spook," Ruth replied cheerfully. "You're meant to be pretty and convincing and I'm meant to stay here and dig up the dirt you need to do your job."

"Have you ever wanted to go out into the field?" Fiona asked.

"God no," Ruth laughed. "I don't think Harry would allow it, anyway. He's rather particular about keeping me close to home." She blushed a little as she said it, knowing that Fiona might take offense.

Surprisingly, Fiona just watched her for a moment before taking a bite of her sandwich. When she'd swallowed, she said, "So, you and the great Harry Pearce – how did you manage that?" It wasn't meant to sound like an insult, clearly, but it still stung.

Fiona was pretty and charming and could be downright sluttish when she wanted to be; she didn't know what it was like to be rejected and hurt and – and Ruth almost could hate her for it. But it wasn't Fiona's fault, really, that she was lovely and had a good figure that everyone envied. Even Harry looked once or twice, much to Ruth's annoyance; she took another bite of noodles and tried not to answer Fiona's question too quickly.

When she finally spoke, Ruth said, "We met ages ago when I was married. And, uh, we rekindled things after I came over from GCHQ. That's all."

Fiona raised an eyebrow. "That's all?"

Ruth shrugged. "Not everything has to be complex or sordid," she said, picking up a mushroom with her chopsticks. "Harry and I are rather simple, to be honest. I think maybe my daughters might like a bit more drama, since all I ever did with my late husband was argue, but Harry and I try not to do that in front of them at least. We've had a few spectacular rows in the car on the way home, though."

"You have kids?" Fiona said, surprised.

"I do," Ruth said. "Two girls – Rosaleigh and Margaret. Rose is twelve now and Daisy is nine." She smiled a little and said, "And you've got Wesley."

"No, honestly, I didn't know you had kids – no one ever said…"

Ruth merely pulled the small photo from its place on the desk and passed the frame over to Fiona. "They're getting too big," she said quietly. "I miss when they were babies – aside from the dirty nappies."

"The nappies are why Adam and I only had one," Fiona quipped lightly, looking at the photo. "They're lovely, Ruth – and the younger one looks just like her dad."

Ruth's chopsticks froze halfway to her mouth. "Bloody hell," she mumbled, dunking the sticks back into her bowl.

"I mean, I just assumed that she's Harry's because she looks just like him," Fiona said defensively. "Am I wrong?"

Ruth felt her shoulders slump in defeat, and now she was defining herself by the standards of others again. "No, you're right," she said quietly. The words felt like they were sticking in her throat. "Daisy is Harry's child. We had a very… passionate…" Her face was flaming red as she waved her hand in the air, struggling to find the most polite way to say 'one night stand'.

Fiona, though, spared her the time by saying, "Well, I guess he was worth it because you came back for more." She smiled a little and said, "Is he as good as his reputation?"

Ruth knew Harry's reputation all too well. It was all people thought about when they talked about how mismatched they were. "Maybe," she hedged. The second and third hand accounts of multiple partners in broom closets weren't her purview, were they? She'd only been witness to the intensely passionate man who burned hot as the sun and made her feel like she was the only woman on earth who meant a thing to him.

"I confess that I assumed that he would be some oversexed maniac," Fiona said, laughing a little. "Adam told me he was utterly devoted to you, but based on some of the things I'd heard before I was seconded…"

"He might have been that way before," Ruth murmured, "but he's not that way now."

"Because of you and the girls?"

"I don't know, maybe? I just know he wasn't happy and now he is." Ruth blushed again; that sounded conceited and rather assumptive, considering. Like her pussy was made of gold and tasted of honey… like all he wanted was her.

"Who's happy?" Harry asked as he came up behind Fiona.

"You," Ruth said simply.

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Actually, I'm not happy. I'm rather cross that my lunch has been delayed because I need to run back to Whitehall. Did you send the file on McNerney back to Registry, Ruth?"

She set her bowl down, shaking her head. She rooted through the pile of files on her desk and came up with the right one, handing it over with a small smile. "Once you take it, I need you to return it to Registry," she reminded him. "I have the copies I need."

"I will," he said. "Ginny called me earlier to ask if she could take the girls to a thing tonight, so I made reservations at King Charles Inn for us at eight – I know you love their kidney pie."

Fiona smiled at Ruth and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Ruth blushed a bit more. "Yes, that will be nice," she murmured. "Thank you, Harry –"

"Thank _you_, Ruth," he replied, waving the folder in the air as he walked away.

"Oh, someone's going to get lucky tonight," Fiona teased, winking at her.

Ruth went beet red again. "No, probably not," she stammered. "He just does sweet things like that when we're not busy –"

"Ruth, you have to be completely oblivious to not notice the way he looks at you," Fiona said wistfully. "Adam used to look at me like that all the time; now it's only once in a blue moon."

"Adam positively adores you," Ruth pointed out. "You're like the sun and he just revolves around you."

Fiona smiled and teased, "Well, Harry looks at you like he wants to pin you to the wall and –"

Ruth cut her off. "No, he doesn't," she said very firmly. "His knee won't take it."

Fiona's smile turned into a smirk. "Just because he knows his knee won't take it doesn't mean he won't still think about it," she said. "He's very much in love with you, Ruth."

Ruth glanced away from her. "I wish he'd show it once in a while," she said quietly. Changing the subject, she said, "So, tell me about Wes and I'll tell you about Rose and Daisy." Anything to stop talking about her love life.

* * *

Harry drank down a pint of black bitters in the same amount of time it took Ruth to take a bite of her kidney pie – but after the last couple of weeks they'd had at work, she couldn't really fault him for drinking a bit heavily. This was the first break he'd had since he'd been turned down for the DG job, and he seemed determined to enjoy himself. He went to the bar for another drink and came back with a Snake Bite for Ruth.

She couldn't fault him for eating a huge helping of potato skins as well as a minced lamb pasty, either. He had been skipping meals in an attempt to get from meeting to meeting in time. Dark circles were beginning to appear beneath his eyes and she wondered, honestly, if he was beginning to take ill.

"You want dessert?" he asked.

"Harry, I'm barely halfway through my pie," she pointed out.

"You eat like a bird," Harry sighed.

"Birds actually eat quite a lot, so that's not exactly a good analogy," she replied. Ruth took a deep breath and said, "Harry, I need to ask you something, and it's going to sound… odd."

A frown creased his brow. "Odd how?"

"Well, Fiona and I were talking at lunch and she wanted to know about us, and I just… I realized that I don't know answers to a lot of her questions or possible questions," Ruth said. "I mean, I can deflect questions about how we met and things by being slightly evasive or glossing it over, but I can't answer questions like what you see in me. Or why we got married. Or –"

"We got married because we love one another," he pointed out. "I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if I didn't love you and think that we stood a chance of making it."

She hesitated a moment, then said, "We're not exactly emotionally forthright people."

"No, we aren't," he agreed, taking his time in sipping his pint. Harry looked at her for a long moment and said, "You know more about me than anyone else in my life. I love you, Ruth, and I've opened up to you as much as I can. You have to believe me; it's not easy trusting someone enough to talk about your failings and your upsets."

"Yes," she said simply, agreeing with him. "And I love you, too, Harry… but there are times when I don't know if we're actually just playing house and trying to make something stick together that isn't meant to be –"

"Don't say that," he said sharply.

"Well, we don't talk," she said. "We just work, quarrel, and fuck. What kind of a relationship is that?"

"A normal one, from what I hear tell," Harry sighed. "Are you really so unhappy, Ruth? I'm not unhappy. I know I bluster about and make little things into a large deal, but – "

"No, I'm not unhappy," she said quickly, knowing she needed to reassure him quickly that she wanted to be there, with him, still. "I'm not – I just – I don't know. I'm feeling insecure lately because you seem to spend a lot of time looking at Fiona." There, it was out. She felt a little sick at just spitting it out like that, but it still stung.

He stared at her blankly. "What?"

"You heard me," she murmured, picking up her drink and drinking it down quickly. They were getting a cab home; she had the luxury of drinking more.

"I must have heard you incorrectly because you accused me of looking lustfully at a woman other than my wife," he said in a low, dangerous tone.

"Harry, you have," Ruth said in an equally measured tone. "When Fiona was dressed to go into the field with Adam last week, you couldn't keep your eyes off her backside –"

"I was worried that her wire was going to show," Harry said, throwing his hands up in the air. "That dress left absolutely nothing to the imagination and I wasn't looking at _her_, Ruth. And if I did for half a second, it was only to wonder what you would've looked like in that dress."

"I never would wear something like that," she protested.

"Hence me staring maybe a moment longer than necessary," Harry grunted irritably. "I wish you would wear something like that… once. And then I'd be forced to take you and lock you into our room because otherwise, I'd have to beat men off of you."

She blushed and said, "Harry, I'd never –"

"And don't think I haven't noticed that you and Danny are very close," Harry said.

Ruth blinked. "Harry, we're just mates," she said. "And he's fond of the girls. That's all. I'm not actually attracted to him. That would just be _wrong_. Especially because _I love you_. You, Harry. I was going to wait for you till the ends of the earth, remember? I mourned your death."

"You mourned a man that didn't exist."

"No, I mourned the loss of the only man that ever mattered," she whispered, reaching over to take his hand. "And now I have him, and I wouldn't jeopardize our relationship by having a cheap affair. That's not who I am; not who we are."

"I was a cheap affair," he pointed out.

She shook her head. "You were anything but," Ruth said very quietly. "I was married in name only. You were my heart – I gave it away willingly."

Harry fell silent, then took a deep breath. He squeezed her hand and said, "You're the only woman who has actually loved me – me, not the… the illusion of what I can give them. I don't know why you do, but I love you more for it." He met her gaze unflinchingly and added, "You, Ruth, are brilliant, strong, amazing, and so beautiful inside and out. That's what I see in you. A loving mother, a loving wife, a beautiful woman who has survived so much and come out the other side stronger and even more caring." He swallowed hard and released her hand. "Now, finish your dinner so we can go, please."

She licked her lips and murmured, "All right."

* * *

She was a little surprised when the taxi stopped in front of The Dorchester. Harry just got out of the taxi when the door was opened for him, and helped Ruth out as well. She felt woefully underdressed and, in point of fact, dowdy compared to the women and men who were in the hotel lobby. Harry turned and smiled at her. "We needed to get away tonight," he said simply.

Ruth merely nodded, holding his hand. They checked in – with no baggage, whatever would people think? – and went up to the room. Harry smiled and said, "Adam and Fiona brought our overnight Grid bags earlier, and I paid extra to have them brought up."

"Harry, you shouldn't have –" she began, flummoxed as she looked at the absolute luxury around her.

"Ruth, don't argue," he said softly. "We need time together as much as your girls need us to be there for them." He smiled and gave her a kiss.

"But – but – we can't afford this –"

"We can," Harry replied. "Stop arguing."

"But –"

"Ruth, it's Friday night," he reminded her. "There's no crisis. The girls and Ginny are away to your mum's for the weekend. Adam took Scarlett over to his to play with Wes till tomorrow. Stop thinking that something awful is going to happen and just let me love you, please."

She hesitated for a moment, then smiled and murmured teasingly, "It's definitely a step up from that place in Cheltenham we holed up in, isn't it?"

He smiled back, clearly relieved. "Oh yes," Harry said softly. "And it's no less than you deserve, my love."

She stared at him for a long moment, her heart in her throat completely. He'd never… he'd never been so forward as to call her his love. It felt warm, cuddly, cozy… _normal_. Like he and she were a typical couple trying to keep their marriage alive and kicking, not as they were living with life and death decisions for millions of people at any given time. It was nice to just think about them for once.

"Oh, Harry, you can be so terribly sweet," Ruth breathed, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "God, I love you so much – what did I ever do to deserve you?"

He laughed and whispered, "I ask myself that about you every day, Ruth."

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss – it began sweet and innocently, then became increasingly passionate, desire and want pulsating between them. It didn't matter how much time they spent apart – or together; their passion was deep-rooted and scorching hot like fire.

She pulled away, listening to him groan in disapproval. "Harry, no, your knee," she reminded him.

"Bugger my knee," he growled.

"Dear heart, it's already buggered," she pointed out. "No need to make it worse."

"Ten years ago –"

"Ten years ago, we were both looking for each other," she murmured. "We've found each other, Harry. You don't have anything to prove to me. We can make love in a bed in a grand hotel – there's no need to hurt ourselves." Ruth smiled and shimmied out of her skirt, kicking her shoes off as she did. Harry's eyes were dark and glinting with barely restrained want, and she knew that she'd been the cause of it, his lust, his desire.

She felt stupid for not seeing how much he wanted her. Fiona had been right: he looked like he wanted to take her right then and there. And she loved him so much for it.

They met again for another series of hungry kisses, stoking the fire between them. They fumbled with clothes awkwardly till they were both naked and shivering as the cool air in the room hit sizzling hot flesh. She took his erection in the palm of her hand; he tweaked her nipple and sucked on her earlobe, making her knees go weak. He murmured naughty, dirty, sexy things in her ear as he propelled her back toward the bed. The back of her knees hit the mattress and she fell back, taking him with her – he landed squarely between her legs, their pubic bones crashing together. She moaned with the delicious pressure of him against her clitoris, and he made a sound that seemed like a cross between a groan and a whimper.

She wasn't thinking very much as she wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him to get on with it. He thrust into her and she bit down on his shoulder, loving the feel of him inside her even just a little bit. She forgot how much she loved having him inside her until they'd been apart a while. Then it was a keening need, a flash of desire to want him as close as possible, to try to share his skin with him.

She tried to form a coherent thought, to tell him that they were so much more than this base instinct they were engaged in, but she couldn't. He was just too good, found all of her most sensitive spots and blew her brain straight out of the water with sheer pleasure. She burst out in gooseflesh just as she felt her climax overtake her in a rush that she couldn't fight. She shivered, shuddered, cried out and he wasn't far behind her.

In the aftermath, they held onto each other for dear life, trying to reassure each other that everything was still good. Ruth kissed Harry gently and whispered, "I'm sorry I thought you were making eyes at Fiona."

"She's not my type," Harry said quietly.

"What is your type?" she murmured.

He looked down at her and said, simply, "You."

END PART TWENTY


	21. Chapter 21

Twenty-one:  
Foundering

She couldn't stand to look at Fiona and Adam together, knowing that Danny was gone. The silly, gentle man who had come over and played games with the girls and had acted like an uncle to them was gone forever. Harry had tried to comfort her, but it wasn't at all comforting to know that there was nothing she could have done – nothing that anyone could have done for him.

Ruth looked out the window of the helicopter, her fingers tangled possessively with Harry's. He'd held her hand, but she'd felt the need to be greedy about it, threading her fingers with his and holding on for dear life.

It wasn't till they were in the car on the way home that she finally shook off her silence and managed to speak. "What are we going to tell Rose and Daisy?" Ruth asked very quietly. "They're going to be devastated. They love Danny."

Harry sighed. "I know," he said. "I don't know. What do you think we should say?"

"I've no idea," she admitted. "I had no idea what to say when Gareth died. I had no idea what to say when the parakeet died… the goldfish. God, Rose threw such a fit about that stupid fish, but she was only three – she didn't know what dead meant."

"That shouldn't be amusing," Harry said, "but somehow… it is."

"God forgive me, I know," Ruth sighed. "Harry, will you promise me something?"

"If it's within my power to give, yes," he murmured.

"If something happens to me, will you take care of them? Not just Daisy – Rose, too." Ruth paused, letting it sink in before she plunged ahead. "I mean, I can't very well ask my mother to take care of them for me. Not after everything she did – I don't think she knows how to take care of children, really."

"And I do?" Harry laughed sadly. "Yes, Ruth, of course I'll take care of them…"

"You always call them my girls," she said quietly. "You're their step-father."

"Yes, but they don't come to me when they're hurt or upset or if one or the other did something naughty," Harry pointed out. "They always run to you."

"Because you haven't offered yourself as a viable alternative," she shot back.

"I don't want to fight," he said. "Not when we have five minutes till we get home and then we have to tell them that Danny is dead. All right?"

"It's not fair," she said quietly as they turned onto their lane. "He was destined for bigger and better things, and now…"

"He chose this path, Ruth," Harry said. "We all did. We all have to live with the thought that someday, death will come for us in Converse trainers and wearing a smile. Or it will be merciful and quick, a bullet between the eyes. Zaf is worried about you."

"Zaf is an idealistic boy that thinks I'll smile at him," Ruth muttered. "He flirts with me, knowing full well you and I are together. I hate it."

"Danny used to do that," Harry reminded her.

"Zafar Younis isn't Danny Hunter," she huffed as he pulled into the drive and parked alongside her sedan. "And I don't want anyone to ever think they can replace Danny, because they can't. Not anymore than I could ever replace you if you were to die, Harry. It always hurts. Always."

There it was, laid bare between them. She had mourned him already; she couldn't do it again. It was a line in the sand, and she dared him to cross it.

He sighed and said, "Let's go inside and talk to Rose and Daisy. The sooner we get this out of the way, the sooner we can break out the biscuits and ice cream and eat our cares away."

Ruth just looked at him, not believing he'd just suggested that. "What?"

"It's what you and the girls do when you're upset," he said softly. "You think I don't notice, but I do. You get upset and the ice cream disappears. Rose gets upset and the biscuits disappear. Daisy gets upset and any chocolate in the cupboard vanishes into thin air. Who do you think makes sure it gets replaced for the next time?"

She watched him for a moment and whispered, "You're really a softie underneath all that bluster, aren't you?"

He sighed. "If you tell anyone I'm a softie for my girls, I'll have to kill you in your sleep. I can do it, too."

She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "I love you. I'm sorry I was… pissy. I'm just – I was spoiling for a fight because now it's just – god, Harry, why Danny?"

He didn't, wouldn't, couldn't answer her. He just helped her out of the car and inside.

Ginny and Rose were putting the finishing touches on dinner – it smelled like bangers and mash with mushy peas again. It was Daisy's favorite food at the moment, so it featured high on the list of things that were made – every other night. Daisy was sitting at the kitchen table, her feet swinging off the ground as she did her homework.

"It smells good," Harry commented as they came inside.

"Daddy! Mum!" Daisy cried as she looked up from her paper. "It's bangers and mash. Yum! I love how Ginny makes the gravy –"

"Hi, mum; hi, Harry," Rose said with a small smile. "Mum… some of my friends are going to the cinema this weekend – can I go?"

It seemed so normal, so blasé… Ruth tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled noise that might once have been a sob.

"Mum?" Rose said quietly. "Mum, what happened?"

"Yes," Ruth said finally. "Yes, you can go see a movie this weekend with your friends."

"Mum, I don't care about that now – what happened? What's wrong?" Rose asked.

Ruth looked at Harry; she was still completely unsure of how to tell them what had happened. Fortunately, he was willing to be the 'bad guy' and step in. "There was an incident at work today," Harry said quietly. "Danny Hunter passed away."

Everything in the kitchen fell silent, aside from the last popping of the grease in the skillet as it cooled off. "I'm so sorry," Ginny spoke up. "He was a good guy."

Daisy just looked up at her mother, too upset to speak, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Rose was stunned, the tears not coming yet, but her lips were parted in a silent cry.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said quietly, pulling Rose into his arms even as Daisy rushed into Ruth's. "I'm so very sorry, Rose."

"He almost beat me in Scrabble last week," Rose protested. "He was only five points down – he said he'd get me next time, but now there's not going to be a next time!"

"I'll play," he said softly. "I'm not as good as Danny and your mum, but… I'll play."

"It's not the same!" she said. "Dad was going to do all kinds of things with me and then he died – and Danny, too. And now they're gone and you and mum can't just take their place." She finally started to cry then, and Ruth felt guilty; she hadn't been very good at soothing the wounds of her children's grief. Hell, she hadn't been very good at dealing with her own problems. She had no idea what she was meant to do in situations like these, when she had to be emotionally invested.

Daisy just held onto her around the waist and cried into her ribcage. Somehow, this kind of grief was easier to deal with than Rose's emotionally sensitive scars. But it made her happy in an odd, twisted kind of a way, that Rose was accepting Harry's comforting embrace instead of fighting it.

Dinner was a quiet, restrained affair, then Daisy asked, "Can we have ice cream and biscuits, mummy and daddy?"

It was hard, but they would pull through it. With the aid of sugar and chocolate.

* * *

Ruth pulled Harry into his office and said, "You know Adam is sending me into the field?"

Harry looked at her for a moment, then said, "Yes, I am. You'll have an armed officer driving you. Your mission is to find out –"

"I know what my assignment is," she said sharply. "Get the information about Shining Dawn out of Professor Curtis, if he has any. But why me?"

"You're his intellectual equal, if not superior," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache brewing. That was confirmed a minute later when he got his prescription for his tension headaches out of the drawer of his desk and took two pills without a beat. "I have no doubt of your skills of persuasion, Ruth. Play dumb and bowl him under."

She said, "Okay, well –"

He looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Please, Ruth, be the one person I can depend on today. Just go in there and be you. That's what we need."

Ruth nodded a little and said, "Now, more importantly – Juliet Shaw."

"I can't talk to you about her right now," Harry said. "Later. When this is over."

"Did you –"

"We had an affair," he said bluntly. "A long while ago. It won't be repeated. That's all you need know right now. You'd better get going – we're on a clock."

She nodded and leaned in to kiss him gently on the cheek. "Remember you have to take those pills every four hours – set the alarm on your phone," she said softly.

He glanced at her and said, "What would I do without you?"

"Let's pray you never have to find out," Ruth teased, retreating and heading for the door. She almost walked directly into Juliet Shaw, then shrank out of the way. "Sorry, excuse me."

Juliet appraised her coldly. "You're not what I pictured when I heard Harry had gotten married again," she said with a smug kind of a smirk.

"Good," Ruth replied. "I prefer people who underestimate me." She smiled, a forced smile, and went to get her handbag and what she would need for the trip to Oxford.

* * *

"So," Kevin Lewis said as they drove along, "you're the great Ruth Evershed."

She laughed. "Oh please; there's nothing great about me," Ruth scoffed. "I just do the job that's given to me."

"Your threat assessments are the stuff of legend," he teased.

Ruth rolled her eyes. "I have to dumb it down so the politicians understand what we're up against every day," she sighed. "If I were allowed to go more in depth, the higher ups would be scarred for life. If it passes Harry's approval, it goes up. If not, Zaf usually gets to rewrite it."

Kevin chuckled and said, "That sounds about right."

"How did you get this unlucky assignment?" she asked.

"Harry Pearce called in a favor to my section chief," Kevin said. "Since counter-terrorism is overwhelmed at the moment, he thought that we might have a little less business."

"Section C?" she inquired.

"Yeah, domestic bean counting," he replied cheerfully. "I'm actually glad to get out of the office. It's been a while."

"I looked you up before we left," she said simply. "How is your wife?"

He blushed a little and smiled. "Good – the baby will be here in a few weeks. She's terrified; I'm excited to hold my daughter for the first time."

"Oh, you're having a girl?" Ruth replied with a smile. "I have two girls – one is quite like me, bookish and quiet, and the other is quite like her father: all inquisitive and very forward because she hasn't learned how to control herself."

"I'm hoping she'll be like her mum," Kevin said. "If she's like I was as a child, we're all in trouble." He laughed.

It seemed a bit disrespectful to be making small talk in the car on their way to interrogate a pessimistic intellectual but what else could she do? Keep studying Curtis and his ideals? She already hated him on principle for sharing ideologies with the terrorists of Shining Dawn, this man who would just as soon cull the herd and hurt or kill someone who could have just as easily cured cancer as become a leech on the State and society.

She glanced over at Kevin and said, "It's going to be hard the first few months, with the not sleeping and everything. Work will be much more difficult because you'll feel like you're drowning all the time."

"It's okay – I've been running on 3-4 hours of sleep for most of my career," he said with a chuckle. "Something goes wrong at the stock exchanges anywhere in the world, I get called in."

She rolled her eyes. "Ah, yes… my late husband was that way, too," Ruth commented dryly.

"You're widowed, then?"

"No, I've remarried," Ruth said quickly. "It's okay. I'm still not entirely used to everything, either. It's one of those things. I was with Gareth for a long time; Harry less so."

"Harry? As in… Harry Pearce?"

It was Ruth's turn to blush. "Ah, yes," she said.

Kevin nodded. "He told me to keep you safe; seemed a little possessive of a boss."

"We try to keep it quiet at work," she said. "Because the fact that we have a relationship outside of Thames House is no one's business but our own. It doesn't interfere with our work. Most of the time."

Kevin smiled. "I'm glad Pearce found someone sensible to settle down with – I used to be Section D, back right after 9/11, when everything changed. He was like a madman then, always barking orders and taking everyone down a few pegs. He needed a calming influence."

She laughed. "I don't know how calming an influence I am," Ruth said.

"Very much so," Kevin said. "Just take the compliment, Mrs. Pearce."

She paused, then smiled; it was the first time anyone from MI-5 had called her that. It sounded right, and she mentally kicked herself for having been stubborn and insisting on keeping Evershed as her surname to keep confusion at bay in the office. She decided she should rectify that as soon as possible.

* * *

Much, much later – the next day, even – she finally got back to the office, looking decidedly worse for wear and feeling like she'd been through the wringer. It all came down to two things: Professor Curtis, the odious man, was safe, and not through any fault of her own, so was Ruth.

Of course, Harry only gave her a small glance and a nod of acknowledgement that she was back and had made it through everything unscathed. It was his way, though, and she knew that later, much later, when they were done with the reports and the debriefings and allowed to go home to rest, he would show his softer side, the one that was lurking around the edges, showing how distraught he was about what she'd been through. And he was. She could tell by the way his shoulders relaxed on the sight of her, by the way some of the tension lines around his mouth eased. She also knew he wouldn't let her out into the field alone for some time. And Ruth was perfectly all right with that.

They struggled through the next few hours, eventually saving the country from disaster yet again. Everyone finished their paperwork and headed off one by one, till Ruth and Adam alone were on the Grid. Harry was still at Whitehall with the Home Secretary. She wasn't leaving without him. And Adam wasn't leaving till he'd stopped shaking.

Ruth brought him another cup of tea and rubbed his shoulder. "You were very brave through all of this," she murmured. "A bit fool-hardy, but brave."

Adam looked up at her and said, "Harry didn't want me to send you out into the field. But I convinced him that it would be the only way to sway Curtis into coming to our side of things. You're the smartest member of the team, Ruth. Don't ever tell Malcolm or Colin that I said that."

She squeezed his shoulder and said, "I shan't, because it's not true." There was a smile on her lips. "Adam, you should go home. I'll call a taxi –"

"No, I need to speak to Harry when he gets back…"

"Whatever it is, Adam, it can wait till tomorrow. Or the next day, as I'm sure we'll all be sleeping till then. Except for Harry. He's up at five every morning on the dot. Drives me mad."

"I want to talk to Harry about keeping Zaf," Adam said.

Ruth smiled. "Already done; I don't think he'd part with him now," she said softly. "You go home and I'll speak with him. I've got a bit of persuasion left in these old bones."

"You should've gone home ages ago," Adam sighed.

"Not without Harry," she murmured. "Anyway, it's morning. Might as well keep going a bit longer."

"Does Harry know how lucky he is to have you?" Adam asked. "If I wasn't desperately in love with my wife, I'd scoop you up in a heartbeat."

Ruth smiled a little and said, "No you wouldn't – I'm a terribly boring homebody."

The pods hissed and Harry stepped through. "Adam, go home," he ordered. "Ruth, don't make me put you in a car and send you home."

"I'm not leaving without you," she said firmly.

He rubbed his temples and said, "I'm leaving as soon as I get more headache tablets. So get your things. We're going home."

Adam said, "About Zaf –"

"Make sure he gets the desk next to Ruth's," Harry said gruffly. "And push all the necessary paperwork through… tomorrow."

Ruth got her purse and waited patiently for him to go to his office and take more medicine. When he came back, he looked like he was starting to fade. She put her arm around his waist, offering him a steadying force, and walked with him through the pods and out to where Mike was waiting with the pool car.

"Home, please," Harry said gruffly once he was situated. "I've got the most awful headache."

"I know," she murmured, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. "We're going to go home and eat something, and then we're going straight to bed after that."

"Sounds like the best idea you've ever had," he said weakly.

They ended up having beans on toast and some fruit; Ginny was out for the morning, so it was quick enough. And then they tumbled into bed, still fully clothed, not caring, just desiring the comfort of each other and their bed.

When Ruth woke up, he was already up and changing clothes, muttering about ruining his suit and how much he was going to pay in dry cleaning. She yawned and mumbled, "Come back to bed, love."

He glanced over and said, "Go back to sleep, Ruth… the girls will be home soon."

She rubbed her eyes and said, "Then I should get up instead of going back to sleep –"

"I was going to take them to dinner tonight…"

"And not me? I'm hurt!"

"Father-daughter bonding thing," he said, looking over at her almost shyly. "I mean, I haven't… I haven't really made an effort, have I? To bond with them."

"You're doing just fine," Ruth promised. "Daisy adores you. Which is as it should be. And Rose… Rose is Rose. She's complicated. It's okay."

Harry said, "Juliet is going to be made National Security Coordinator, so we'll be seeing more of her."

Ruth frowned. "Oh," she said. "Can't we just shoot her and claim it was an accident?"

He gave her a dour frown. "I wish," he muttered. "Bloody woman propositioned me yesterday. As a way to ensure my support in her bid for the office, mind you. She's a callous bitch and I can't believe I was ever stupid enough to sleep with her." He set his scissors down with a thunk. He'd been trimming loose threads on his jacket, and clearly had stopped rather than snipping himself in carelessness.

Ruth got up and went to him, circling his waist with her arms, and laying her head on his shoulder. "We all make mistakes," she murmured. "They help shape who we are to become. She taught you to be far less careless with your affections, didn't she?"

He grunted. "Didn't stop me from fucking you, did it?"

"That's different and you know it," she murmured, kissing his neck and smiling. "You were lonely and tired. She was convenient. I was anything but."

He laughed bitterly. "Yes, that's sadly true," Harry sighed. "You've never been convenient."

She poked him in the side. "I love you, you rotten old man," she teased softly. "You've never been convenient, either. You've always been rather inconvenient. And I love you so much for it." She waited for him to turn toward her and she gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. "Take the girls out for supper," she murmured. "And then I'll be waiting when you come home. We can do… inconvenient… things… and we can talk more about how we're going to deal with that vile woman in our lives."

He sighed and said, "Can we not talk about her? I'd much prefer to make love to my beautiful wife and pretend for one moment that Juliet Shaw has crawled back under her rock."

Ruth squeezed him gently and murmured, "Yes, Harry, we can pretend she doesn't exist for one more night. Where are you taking the girls?"

He relaxed a little bit and said, "I thought we'd go to that new noodle bar that Daisy's been asking to go to for the last month…"

"Oh, good choice – I know you're not fond of Japanese, but they will both love that," she said. "I think I'll order in a curry for Ginny and me, then, and try to catch up on some reading."

He turned in her arms until he could wrap his arms around her and hold her close. "Juliet didn't mean anything to me," he whispered. "She was just sex and influence. _You_ mean everything to me, and if I lose you because of her, I will never forgive myself."

"Why would you lose me?" Ruth asked. "I know you had a life and a past that came before me, and not all of it is pretty. You know the same about me. I wouldn't push you away because of that. Only if you feel free to repeat the past in the present would I walk away." She buried her face in his shoulder and inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of his soap, his cologne, of him. It was comforting and she was still very tired.

"I love you for being so logical and understanding," he sighed softly. "Even if it's not well-deserved…"

She pulled back and gave him another kiss; this time, it burned with the firey passion she felt for him, despite her weariness. "You're mine," she said firmly when the kiss ended. "And if you forget that, I have ways of reminding you. Ways that will hurt far more than merely divorcing you."

He smiled and said, "Oh, I remember every time young Zafar makes cow eyes at you that you're mine."

"He's a boy," she murmured. "I require a mature gentleman to keep my bed warm. Nothing but the very best will do – aged like a fine single malt."

He gave her a kiss and they lost themselves in the sensations for a few minutes, just kissing, touching, loving one another. Until they heard Daisy thundering up the stairs. "Mummy, Daddy, you're home!" she cried, rushing into their room and giving them both a hug. "Can we go out for dinner and –"

"How about you and Rose and I go out tonight?" Harry asked. "Your mum wants to do some reading and we're far too noisy, aren't we?"

Daisy wrinkled her nose. "Mummy, don't you want to come to dinner?"

"You and Rose go with your – with Harry," Ruth said.

"Harry's our dad now, isn't he?" Daisy said.

"Yes," Harry said firmly. "I am. And we need to do things as dad and daughters, don't we?"

Daisy nodded. "Are you sure it's okay, mummy?"

"Go ahead," Ruth said with a small smile.

"Rose, Rose, we're going out for dinner with daddy tonight! We should wear nice dresses!" Daisy cried, running from the room as fast as she'd entered it.

"Ah, to be young and have that much energy again," Harry sighed.

"You know, one of these days, I'm going to have to tell her the truth: that you're her real dad," Ruth said quietly. "Fiona saw it straight away. She looks more like you every day."

"I'll tell her tonight," Harry said softly. "And explain to Rose that I consider her to be mine as well – so neither of them think I favor one over the other because of blood… They're your children and I love you, so it's just that simple. They're mine now, too – or will be as soon as I've signed the adoption ledgers."

"Wait, you got the paperwork back and didn't tell me?" she asked.

"All we have to do is sign it," he said. "I didn't want to do it without you."

"Oh, Harry, that's the most romantic thing you've ever done," she said, nearly in tears. "Bloody hell, you just keep finding new ways to make me go all gooey."

He gave her another kiss and smiled against her lips. "I love you, Ruth," he whispered. "And our girls."

The simple declaration was enough to make her cry.

END PART TWENTY-ONE


	22. Chapter 22

Twenty-two:  
A Certain Kind of Normalcy

Daisy all but skipped into the sitting room when they got home from dinner. "Mummy, oh, mummy, that noodle house is so delicious! You have to come next time. I got buckwheat noodles and pumpkin miso, and it was so yummy." She bounced onto the sofa and hugged her mother.

Ruth smiled and kissed the top of Daisy's head. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she said softly. "Did you have a good time with your sister and dad, then?"

Daisy nodded. "But I missed you, so you have to come next time."

"I will," Ruth promised. "But sometimes, your dad will want to take you girls out, too."

Daisy nodded and said, "He's talking to Rosie in the kitchen, mummy. She got a little upset when he told me he's my real dad. But he's Rosie's dad, too, now, isn't he? She shouldn't be upset. She's got a daddy, too, and he loves her very much."

Ruth frowned and said, "Sweetheart, how did he say it?"

Daisy said, "Well, he waited till we'd eaten supper and dessert was coming and he said he had to tell us both something very important. And he told me he's my daddy. I don't know why Rose started crying. She had a daddy who loved her lots and lots and I didn't till now." Daisy looked up at Ruth and frowned. "Did I?"

Ruth swallowed hard and said, "Maybe not, but you always had a mum who loved you so very, very much."

"And now I've got a dad," Daisy said cheerfully. "Did you know he's my dad, mummy?"

"I did," Ruth murmured. "And I loved him very much. It was a very cruel thing that we were parted, really, but it's over now. We're all back together."

"Daddy says he's going to 'dopt us so we're all named Pearce, mummy," Daisy said excitedly.

Rose came into the room and said very quietly, "Mum, did you ever love my dad even just a little bit?"

Ruth craned her neck to look at Rose and said, "Yes, but love wasn't enough."

"How do you know that love will be enough with Harry?" Rose asked.

"It's not," Ruth murmured, looking at Harry where he was stood behind her daughter in the doorway. "We've had to work very hard to make things work, even with as much love as we have for each other. There's no part of marriage that's easy, and your father and I stopped trying."

Rose said, "What happens if Harry adopts us and you get divorced?"

"That's not going to happen," Ruth said very softly. "Harry and I are committed for the long haul, Rose. We aren't just going to quit. We've been apart too long already."

"You really love him?" Rose murmured.

"I do," Ruth said. "I really do love Harry – with all of my heart, Rose. I think I did way back then, too, I was just… blind to it."

Rose exhaled and said, "I was really upset when he told Daisy he's her dad. Because he's not my dad. But he wants to be, so I needed to know." She turned around and looked at Harry. She held out her hand and said, "Can I call you dad now?"

He shook her hand and solemnly said, "I really rather wish you would, Rose."

She smiled just a little and said, "I'd like that, too. Dad." She hesitated a moment, then hugged him. Harry hugged her back and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you for supper – it was really good," she added as an afterthought.

Ruth smiled and ruffled Daisy's hair. "Okay, you, you're squishing your poor old mum," she said. "It's time for you to get a shower and get ready for bed."

"But _muuuuuummy_, tomorrow's Saturday!"

"Yes, and Ginny has plans for you and your sister tomorrow. Go on," Ruth said softly. "We can cuddle and watch movies on Sunday, okay?"

Daisy huffed and pouted. "Okay," she mumbled. She still made no motion to move, and Ruth looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. Daisy immediately got up and pouted some more, looking to Harry for an appeal.

Harry said, "Don't look at me like that; your mum said to go take a shower. Please do it."

Daisy frowned, then hurried off. Rose said, "I'll make sure she does it, mum, and then I'll take my shower – but can I stay up and read a bit, please?"

"What about story time?" Ruth asked.

"After story time," Rose said. "Aren't I getting a bit old for bedtime stories?"

"You're never too old for a bedtime story," Harry said. "Your mum reads to me sometimes before we go to sleep."

Rose hesitated, then nodded. "Okay," she said.

"Rose, don't try to grow up too soon on me," Ruth murmured. "You're still my little girl."

Rose said, "But, mum –"

"You'll always be my little girl, even when you have kids of your own," Ruth said softly. "But you're still very young and I just want what's best for you. You know that, right?"

Rose nodded and came over to give Ruth a hug. "I like bedtime stories," she whispered. "Can we do them forever?"

"Forever's a long time, love," Ruth said. "But I can promise we'll do them as long as I'm here to do them, okay?"

"Okay, mum," Rose replied. "I'm going to go wait for Daisy to get out of the shower."

"I'll be up in a bit," Ruth promised. "And we'll keep reading _Good Omens_, okay?"

Harry waited till Rose was gone, then said, "I'm still not sure that book is entirely appropriate for children…"

Ruth smiled. "Don't get too big for your britches, Mr. Pearce," she teased. "You're not exactly old hat at this parenting thing. And Daisy chose it; it was Gareth's favorite and he read it to them when they were much younger."

"I feel like I have so much to make up for, not being there for her," Harry said with a sigh. "Not being there for you –"

"Harry, the past is over and gone; we have the future laid out ahead of us," she murmured. "You've taken a huge step in telling Daisy that you're her father today. She's accepted you whole-heartedly, and so has Rose. Be grateful for that, okay?"

"I am grateful," he said. "I'm grateful for second chances and for a family who loves me, in spite of all of my failings –"

"You haven't failed us," she said, reaching up and taking his hand in hers.

He inhaled and exhaled, lifting her hand to his lips for a kiss. "I should've stayed and fought for you all those years ago –"

"No," she said softly. "We needed the time apart to appreciate being together."

"I love you," he said. "And I fell in love with you then. That's why I went to your house and got kneed in the balls figuratively by your husband."

She looked up at him and said, "I must have been at work when you visited. If I'd have been home, I would have just packed bags for Rose and me and left." She'd decided long ago that she would have done, and it still rang true now, even ten years later.

He said, "Do you want a glass of wine before bed?"

"That sounds nice," she said. "Maybe you can bring the bottle up to bed and we'll share?"

"Dangerous promises," he teased, leaning down and giving her a tender kiss. "Red or white?"

"Oh, white, definitely," she murmured. "Red always gives me a headache in the morning."

He gave her another kiss. "I'll be waiting for you to finish storytime," Harry said with a smile. "And then we can enjoy one another's company."

"I can't wait," she breathed, smiling.

She still marveled that he loved her so much, even after so much time apart. She wondered how she could have fallen in love with him so quickly, so strongly. He hadn't been the handsomest man in the pub that night, nor had he been particularly the best at communicating like a human being. But he'd connected with her at a primal level that only grew stronger by the day.

Yes, they struggled, but it was because their personalities were polar opposites. But even in their differences, they found strength and a stronger love because of it.

She knew about his approved 'socializations' – the ones in his files. The ones with photos of his 'women', one after another after another. They had abruptly stopped ten years before, with only one S24 form and her photo attached, dated the day after they'd parted… before he'd gone back and Gareth had crushed his heart. Had he really waited, biding his time, for her to divorce Gareth? It was flattering to think so.

She knew he'd be upset that she'd checked out his file, so she didn't say a word, just held the little nuggets of knowledge close to her heart.

* * *

She slipped into their bedroom and closed the door behind her. "They're settled," Ruth said. "I had to read two chapters tonight, to make up for not being there for three days."

"You're a good mum," Harry said, smiling.

"Shameless flatterer," she murmured, taken a bit aback at how much he affected her, even in his stupid track pants and t-shirt, ready for bed. Tonight, it was an old Knebworth Festival 1979 t-shirt, and she found it incredibly sexy that he could lecture her on her musical tastes and still love Led Zeppelin, cheeky old sod.

He held up the wine bottle and said, "Get comfortable and let's drink this."

She blushed a little and murmured, "You do realize you don't have to get me drunk to make me want to have sex with you, right?"

"Yes," he said. "But you always seem to enjoy making love a bit more when you've had some wine."

"Mmm," she hummed. "Maybe it's because wine was how I've coped with all of the strain and insanity of motherhood. It makes me feel safe at the end of the day. But maybe it's a crutch now – seeing as how I have you instead."

"If the wine is a crutch, maybe we should forgo it – and see how much you love me when you don't have the rose-tinted glasses on," he teased.

Ruth smiled and shimmied out of her skirt – after checking to make sure the door was locked. The last thing she needed was one of the kids walking in on them; Daisy would flip her lid and Rose would probably die of embarrassment. Harry's eyes widened and he smiled a bit, watching her. She took off her blouse and her stockings slowly, making sure to keep his attention. By the time she was in just her bra and knickers, he wasn't even attempting to hide his erection – or the look of need and desire on his face.

It was very similar to the look he'd worn the first time he'd taken her clothes off, when Harry had been so eager to love her, to worship at her altar and bring her the finest fruits of the land if only she'd give him the pleasure of her body. And, oh lord, that look was more powerful than he knew. It made her weak in the knees and wet in all the right ways.

She hesitated for a moment, then decided to go for broke. She headed around to his side of the bed and graced his lips with a deliciously tantalizing kiss. "Hello, love," she whispered.

"Hello to you, too," he said. "Was that little show meant to be coy or…"

"Oh, no," Ruth murmured. "No coyness at all. You know how hard it is for me to just strip off my kit and parade around – even in front of you."

He pulled her back down for a kiss that got very heated very quickly. She moaned against his mouth and let her hands wander over him, dipping into his track pants and even beneath into his trunks. He groaned and said, "Ruth, you are temptation personified –"

"Liar," she breathed. "I can think of a thousand other women who fit that definition, and I'm nowhere on that list."

"You're the top of my list," he growled, rolling her over and pinning her to the bed on her back. "You're the only one on my list."

She whimpered when he kissed his way down her body, paying special attention to the tops of her breasts; he avoided her nipples or anything covered by her bra. He smirked up at her, winking cheekily as he continued lower, kissing, nipping, nibbling around the edges of her knickers, carefully avoiding the treasures beneath the lace.

"Harry Pearce, you're terribly mean," she gasped when he pulled away.

He said, wounded, "Take that back."

"I shan't," she replied. "You're awfully, terribly cruel to taunt me like this –"

"Who is taunting whom?" he shot back, fingering the waistband of her knickers. His light touch almost made her mad with lust, drawing goosebumps and creating a frisson of heat within her. "You're the one wearing see-through lace knickers to the office…"

She whimpered and said, "Only for you, Harry."

He sat up and took his t-shirt off, tossing it carelessly out of the way – it landed on the top of the dresser, knocking over one of her perfume bottles. "Oops," he said. "Better buy you a new bottle."

"Naughty man," she scolded, but she didn't mind, really. He was good to her – too good to her.

They touched and caressed each other, removing the last layers of clothing between them, exploring and re-exploring their bodies, their wants, their need for one another. Harry discovered that she was slightly ticklish on her left side on the upper part of her ribcage, and that she shivered and moaned in pleasure when he kissed her there. She discovered that he, despite his protestations to the contrary, really did love getting head from her. (He only protested because he didn't want to get too close to orgasm.)

It was intimate, comfortable, them. No one could touch them in this room; no one could come between them when there wasn't even room between them for air to sustain their lungs. Their hearts were so full of love for one another, Ruth wondered if hers might burst as she looked down at her husband and saw all the emotions she was feeling reflected in his eyes. He might play at being a gruff bastard on the Grid, in Whitehall, in front of others, but alone… alone, they were just Harry and Ruth, loving and loved in return.

She felt her orgasm begin, her fingers and toes tingling, her thigh muscles spasming. She leaned down and kissed him tenderly, willing him to give it up with her. He gripped her hips and pushed up into her, almost shouting with the intensity of it; that was all she needed to let go and shatter.

It took a bit for them to recover, breaths evening out from frantic pants to normal pace. He held her close, his fingers stroking her hair, her neck, her back. She lay splayed over him, her fingers running over his chest.

"I love you so much it frightens me," he said very quietly. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you, Ruth."

"Don't think about that," she whispered. "Think about the happy things. Think about how good it is to be together. Think about our family. Think about all the things we have to look forward to, Harry."

"You've given me a second chance," he murmured. "At everything I cocked up before –"

"Sh," she whispered. "Who knew the great Harry Pearce gets maudlin after sex?"

He laughed and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "Who knew the great Harry Pearce could fall so much in love that he would be willing to give up everything just to keep her?" he said almost inaudibly.

She opened her eyes and gave him the gentlest of kisses on the lips. "I did," she whispered. "Now, close your eyes and get some sleep. We've got to go to the market in the morning while the girls are out, and you're going to wake me up in the middle of the night wanting round two."

He laughed and she snuggled into him more.

It was normal, it was bliss, it was them. She was glad she'd surrendered to him, let him have her heart to do with as he pleased. She was content for the first time in her life.

And it was good.

END PART TWENTY-TWO


	23. Chapter 23

Sorry about the lack of updates. I went on vacation with the intent of getting a bit of writing done and it didn't happen because of a pretty awful family emergency. My brother went missing on Tuesday last week and everything's just gone to hell. ANYWAY - here's a bit.

* * *

Twenty-three:  
Leap of Faith

She hated knowing that Harry was gone and wasn't necessarily going to return any time soon. It was an extraction in Northern Ireland, one that he had insisted he needed to perform himself. With Juliet and her obnoxious face involved. Ruth hated her for being his first thought when he considered the op. He'd explained that they had worked together at one point and this contact knew them as Mr. and Mrs. Charles Evans.

She hated knowing that they would be sharing a hotel room, meals, everything together. It was jealousy, yes, but it was also more than that. It was dark, visceral, and a desire to keep him safe, close to her bosom and her heart. But he needed to be free to do his job. He had been a spook when she was but a child, so she knew without a doubt that he could handle himself. And admirably, she had to admit, based on the number of scars on his body.

He was a spy of the old order, before the influx of technology. Harry relied on people, on intelligence and cunning. She relied on what she could see, touch, manipulate. It was hard to imagine being in the field by herself and relying only on her wits to keep herself safe.

She glanced over at his office and sighed, knowing that he was finishing his instructions for Adam and he wouldn't call her in. It was too risky to show his emotions right before he left, and she understood… kind of so, anyway. It didn't make it hurt any less, however, and her nerves were already frayed. Daisy was sick and had been up all night coughing and fevered, and Ruth had stayed up with her when the medicine didn't work. She was tired and upset and cursing the school system and its propensity toward being a petrie dish of bacteria and viruses and cursing her husband for being a stubborn fool and insisting on going to Belfast. The last time he'd been there, he'd gotten a scar the length of his torso for his trouble and psychological scars that would linger forever and ever, amen.

Juliet spun onto the Grid with her bags, and Ruth felt a pang of irritation and something maybe akin to jealousy, but the other woman didn't look pleased, so at least it was a mutual feeling. "Isn't he finished yet?" she asked Ruth irritably.

"There's a lot more to leaving for a long assignment than just handing over the keys," Ruth said, trying to keep her voice neutral. "Believe me, he doesn't want to leave at all."

"I know. He whined at me all morning about how your kid is sick and he should be here instead," Juliet sighed. "Because, of course, now he's a family man." The sarcasm was dripping from her voice like syrup. "I don't see why he cares so much about your children."

Ruth gave her a dirty look and tipped the framed photo of them as a family onto its face so Juliet couldn't see it. "Because that's what happens when you care about people –you create a family."

Juliet snorted. "Oh please," she scoffed. "Harry doesn't have a paternal bone in his body."

Ruth's fingers clenched into fists. "I don't know," she hedged. "He's done well so far."

Juliet snorted a little, derisively. "He's pretending. He'll lose interest soon enough."

Ruth said, "I'm sorry; I've got actual work to be doing. Could you let me get on with it?" She really didn't want to talk to Juliet right then – if ever. The woman made her skin crawl.

Harry came out of his office, still talking to Adam, and paused at Ruth's desk. "Juliet," he said coldly, "have you been harassing Ruth?"

"Of course not, Harry," Juliet lied smoothly. "Just passing the time until you're ready to leave."

Ruth said, "Harry, I've put the relevant documents onto a memory stick for you. Obviously, you need the decryption code, but if you think very hard about it, you'll know what it is." Margaret. Simple, concise, just them. No one else would be able to guess it without knowing their background. And even then, most of the team thought her name was actually Daisy.

He looked at her for a long moment, then said, "Juliet, I need to speak to Ruth in private. Will you please excuse us for a moment?"

Ruth got up and followed him into the conference room, where he said softly, "I won't say that this mission isn't dangerous, but I'm not anticipating –"

"It's not the fact that you're in danger," Ruth sighed. "It's the being with _her_ while you're in danger. I don't trust her any further than I can pick her up and throw her. Which is not at all, by the way."

He cupped her face in his hands and leaned in to kiss her. "I love you," he said very softly. "And when I get home…"

"The encryption code is Margaret," she interjected.

"I know," he murmured, looking a bit perturbed that she'd not responded to the kiss.

"Harry," she sighed, "you have to leave. I don't want to start something we can't finish. It will only hurt that much more."

He sighed and kissed her forehead. "When I get home –"

"When you get home, we're going away for the weekend," she said firmly. "Just you and me. We'll go away to a lovely little hotel and pretend that we were never apart." She gave him a quick kiss and murmured, "I'm going to hate it. But there's no way around it, so what can we do?"

"It should be a week," Harry sighed.

"You were meant to get out of field work when you were promoted," she reminded him gently. "Are you sure you can –"

"Ruth," Harry said in a warning tone, "old spies don't die: they just go play in the dark. I'll be fine, but thank you for worrying about me. It's nice to know that someone does."

She gave him a gentle kiss and whispered, "The girls do, too, so please be good and come back in one piece for them."

He smiled and replied, "I'll be fine."

* * *

Four days later, when they'd missed two check-ins, Adam sent Ruth away from the Grid. She was nervous, anxious, twitchy, and she'd had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach since Harry and Juliet had left.

Ginny had taken the kids to the theatre for the night, along with Wes Carter, and a couple of Daisy's friends, and so Ruth was expecting the house to be empty when she got there. What she wasn't expecting was a trail of blood in the front hall. She pulled out her can of pepper spray and took a few hesitant steps inside. She exhaled in nervous relief when she came around the corner and saw Juliet trying to tend to Harry.

"Get off me," Harry growled, batting ineffectually at Juliet. "I need a hospital, not –"

"Oh, shut up, Harry," Juliet snapped. "It's your fault we lost the asset in the first place."

"Piss off," he shot back. "Ruth is going to blow her top –"

"Ruth doesn't matter," Juliet said through clenched teeth. "What the hell were you thinking, Harry? What the bloody hell were you thinking when you slept with her?"

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from him. "I don't have to justify myself to you, Juliet," Harry said in a very cold tone.

"Did she promise you something? Was it an exchange of sex for promotion? I mean, if it was, I could respect her more than a profession of love," Juliet muttered, rolling her eyes. "Because you're not loveable, Harry."

Ruth decided it was time to speak up. "Yes," she said, "he is."

Harry and Juliet both stared at her, suddenly aware of her presence. "Shit," Harry spat.

"Juliet, will you please clean up the corridor?" Ruth asked. "Please feel free to go upstairs and use the shower. I'll see to Harry."

"I just need to get cleaned up and go after Wallace," Harry grunted.

"No," Ruth said firmly. "It's time to get off your high horse and call in the troops."

"I already have," Juliet said. "Adam sent you home so they could run and take care of tracking him down." She pulled away from Harry and sighed. "He has a deep laceration in his shoulder, and possibly a broken collar bone. The pool car is totaled."

Ruth immediately dropped her purse and her coat before she joined Harry. "You do realize we might need a new sofa," she murmured.

He grunted and let her stitch him up quickly with the field first aid kit. "I'll buy a new bloody sofa," Harry mumbled. "I can't believe everything went tits up so fast –"

She gave him a kiss on his clenched jaw. "It's okay; it happens, Harry." She was covered to her forearms in blood, and she felt a touch queasy from it. She'd never been good with blood. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I was driving," he said simply. "It's just cuts and bruises. Juliet is shaken up."

"What were you doing back in London?"

"I can't tell you," he said very quietly. "I'm sorry, Ruth."

"Okay," she said very quietly, concisely. "Are the children and I in danger?"

"If we were followed, yes," Harry grunted, wincing when she hit a particularly painful spot on his shoulder. "I directed Ginny to take the children to Safehouse Six; it's code for get to ground and avoid the safehouses. Our man is getting directions from the inside of Five – he has to be, to have the knowledge he does." He flinched and tried to draw away, but she held him gently still.

"Harry, you have to hold still or I'm going to make a mess of it," Ruth murmured.

"We need weapons," Juliet said. "If your friend somehow manages to make it here, it could be disastrous –"

Harry grunted. "Not my friend and I didn't want to run this op, remember?" he snapped. "Go clean up the corridor, Juliet. Please."

"So you can tell her all about the op? I don't think so!"

"Bloody fool woman, get out!" Harry roared. Ruth jumped, having never heard him use that tone of voice in all their time together. He was beyond angry, beyond madness, beyond reason.

The wild ferocity even made Juliet startle, and she did as he asked, finally. Ruth got an alcohol wipe and gingerly began to wipe the blood from Harry's skin, watching the blood on her hands dilute and run everywhere. She didn't say anything, just let him gasp in pain and watched his fist clench. "Hell's fucking bells, Ruth," he panted.

"You need a hospital," she murmured.

"I need you to finish with me and check Juliet over," he grunted. "And then you need to get the pistols out of the upstairs safe."

"You can't fire a gun in this condition," Ruth scolded.

"They aren't for me," he muttered. "You need to take point on the front door and Juliet will need to take the back, if she's able."

"Harry, what have you gotten us in the middle of?" she asked, suddenly angry.

"I hope it's nothing," he said, "but if it's not nothing, we need to be prepared."

She watched him a moment, then pulled her hand with the thinned blood dripping down her wrist onto her forearm away and said, "You were never in Northern Ireland, were you? You were in London this whole time."

He sighed. "I can't, Ruth. I can't tell you."

"You mean you won't –"

"Both. I can't and I won't."

She pauses for a long moment, then said, "I suppose you want me to just go along blindly on this one? Take what you have to say at face value and –"

"There's a mole," he grunted. "I can't tell you in case he or she has bugged you. I won't tell you the extent of how far down the rabbit hole we've gone because I don't want to put you in any more danger than I have to."

"God, Harry, you're a bloody sap," Juliet complained bitterly from the corridor.

"Get in here so Ruth can look after you," Harry ordered crossly. "I know you broke your wrist because you could barely help support me inside –"

"You're a heavy arse," Juliet snapped back, coming back into the room.

Ruth immediately went for the bandages. "Will you be able to shoot?" she asked.

"Left-handed," Juliet commented wryly. "It might not be well, but I can hit a moving target."

Harry tried experimentally to lift his arm and cried out with such a wounded sound that Ruth dropped the bandage roll and immediately reached for him. He shrugged her off and inhaled deeply. "I'm going to change clothes," he grunted, his breathing heavy and uneven.

"Harry, you really can't," Ruth said softly.

"Just tend to Juliet," he ordered, his voice suffused with barely-restrained emotion. "I'll change my shirt and bring down the guns."

Ruth sighed and said, "Let me wash my hands, Juliet, and then I'll try to bind your wrist."

Harry left once he'd established that Ruth was going to help Juliet, and Ruth returned from the sink and got the bandages again. Once she'd looked over the other woman and established that she was mostly all right aside from the right wrist she held so gingerly, Ruth began to bind it, trying to immobilize it as much as possible temporarily.

"Your husband is a bloody fool," Juliet grunted, wincing.

"We all are at some time or another," Ruth murmured.

"Have you even passed your weapons certification?" Juliet sneered.

"Yes, as a matter of course," Ruth replied. She couldn't leave well enough alone and said, "Why do you hold me in such contempt? As far as I'm aware, I've done nothing to you but pick up the pieces you left behind of Harry."

Juliet snorted. "I don't hold you in contempt; I loathe you. Two totally different things."

Harry came back downstairs and said, "Ruth, I need you to finish with her and take point."

"You can't ask her to –" Juliet sputtered.

"Like hell I can't," Harry growled. "And if you blame me one more time for your cock-up, Juliet, I'll shoot you myself."

Ruth tied off the bandage and took the pistol and extra clip of ammunition from Harry's weak grasp. She knew he was asking her to protect them all, and it was the best he could do. He was giving her a chance to prove herself, but it was more than that. There was a kind of silent desperation in his gaze, and she knew he was hurt worse than he'd told her in an instant. Internal bleeding? Broken ribs? Concussion? It had to be bad for him to not insist on being in the forefront.

He passed Juliet the second gun and slumped onto the couch. "Anyone comes to the door, you keep them from getting in here," he ordered. "Do you understand? I don't bloody care if they're from the blooming Salvation Army."

Ruth paused, then nodded, looking him over for any other external signs of injury; a blood patch, bruising that might peep out from beneath his shirt. "Harry, I –"

Juliet rolled her eyes and waved the gun. "She can't possibly take point, Harry –"

Ruth rounded on her and said, "My house, my rules – you shut your mouth before I shoot you for peace and quiet."

"Good girl," Harry praised.

Blood rushing in her ears, Ruth pushed past Juliet and went to wait by the door. She could peep out the small windows on either side of the door, and she used the monitor from the security system to help her. Time passed, and eventually, Harry began to snore in the other room. That wasn't good. She resisted the urge to abandon her post and check on him.

She saw him coming to the door before she could react, really; Jeremy Hampton, the registry clerk. Ruth felt suddenly tense, and she knew without a doubt that she was facing a test. He rushed up the walk and rang the bell. She counted to three and opened the door till the chain went taut. "Jeremy," she said.

"I'm looking for Harry. Adam Carter sent me."

She saw the gun in his waistband, saw him reaching for it, and she aimed and pulled the trigger without conscious thought, without mercy, without anything in her head but 'protect Harry'. He recoiled, staggering a bit, but when he aimed at her, she pulled the trigger again – once, twice, three times. She slammed the door shut as he fell down the steps leading to the door, and then she sank to the floor, hands shaking.

Juliet took the gun from her and said, "Four shots was overkill. We need to leave. Now. He'll have transmitted our location. Harry's in bad shape and so am I –"

Ruth swallowed hard. "Then we stay. Why do you think Adam sent me home? I'm meant to protect you all."

"Well, you can't go to bloody pieces because you shot a double agent, then," Juliet scolded. "I'll take point for a bit so you can sort yourself out."

Ruth gritted her teeth and said, "I can cope. I'd like to know why I was forced to shoot a colleague –"

"Because he bloody well would have shot you in a heartbeat and a heartbeat is literally all it takes for this operation to implode," Juliet snarled. "We're in deeper than you can possibly know, Evershed. If either Harry or I die, or our little asset friend finds us first, there's a high likelihood that the Queen will be murdered in her bed. And I can't tell you any more than that. Do you understand?"

Ruth hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

"Good," Juliet muttered. "Now pull yourself together and make sure Harry's still alive. The airbag deployed and almost snapped his neck. He's in a bad way." Ruth nodded and got up, heading toward the sitting room. She was about to turn into it when Juliet said, "I don't know what he sees in you, but I am grateful he sees it. Else we'd probably be in pieces now."

Ruth nodded curtly, seeing the woman's somewhat unspoken gratitude. She was still a raving lunatic bitch who wanted to take her husband away, but for a moment, they were compatriots in arms.

She hurried into the sitting room and looked Harry over, trying not to wince when she saw the dark bruise on his head and she had a difficult time rousing him from his doze. "Hey, now," Ruth said softly. "I need you to stay awake, Harry. Okay? I can't stay in here with you to keep you distracted."

He looked up at her with bleary eyes. "I've made a mess of things –"

"Things can be replaced," she murmured. "You can't."

"I should never have slept with Juliet," he grunted, reaching over in spite of his pain and capturing her hand in his. "I'm sorry."

"You're apologizing for something that happened way before we met again," she sighed. "Stop it. Everyone has a past they aren't necessarily proud of."

"It might get us killed," he said in a tone that harbored defeat and sadness. "I'm sorry –"

She gave him a kiss and whispered, "Try to stay awake, Harry. I've got to watch the door."

"I thought I heard gunshots –"

"You did," she said very quietly. "They won't take you and they aren't coming into my house without a fight." The words were full of conviction and purpose that she didn't necessarily feel; she just hoped that they conveyed enough to convince him of her intents and purposes.

"We're going to have to move," he said off-handedly.

"I know," she agreed, and she did know it. Once a place was compromised…

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

"Shh," she murmured. "Try not to move too much. I'll be back as soon as I can." Ruth gave him a kiss which he didn't reciprocate; it made her worry even more about his injuries. He was pulling away from her and soon… soon there wouldn't be a Harry left to save.

It was almost ten when she heard shouts and gunfire. One of the bullets shattered her peeping window and she ducked for cover as a few more bullets tore through the door and the air around her. She winced; it was a graze, but Harry would blow his top.

Juliet lifted her from the ground a few minutes later and Zaf checked her over cursorily. "You'll be fine," he said. "Why were you on point?"

She held up the pistol shakily and said, "I've got two useful hands."

"Ambulance is on the way," Adam said, bursting through the door. "Juliet –"

"Broken wrist, sprained knee," Juliet said dismissively. "Harry's got a concussion, possibly a spinal fracture, broken collarbone, and deep lacerations to his shoulder and chest. Ruth patched him up, but there's internal bleeding, I think."

"He's been very quiet," Ruth said softly. "He can't die." Her voice sounded hollow, even to her own ears. She was in shock.

"He's not going to die," Adam insisted. "Ruth, you're bleeding –"

"Just a graze," Zaf interjected.

Juliet scowled at them all and said, "You couldn't have gotten here just a few minutes before, could you?"

Harry leaned up against the doorframe and mumbled, "We should be glad that they showed up to the party at all." Adam and Ruth grabbed him as he swayed and barely managed to keep him from hitting the floor. The ambulance crew burst through the door and got him onto a gurney in a hurry. Ruth grabbed her purse and followed them to the ambulance, Juliet on their heels.

"Relationship to the injured?" one of the techs asked Ruth.

"I'm his wife," she said very quietly. "I stitched his shoulder –"

"You did a good job," someone else piped up. Ruth would've been smug about it if she hadn't been so damnably worried.

It was almost eight hours between their arrival at the hospital and when she got to see Harry. He looked rather small and pale in his hospital bed, and she felt rather small and pale beside him. She always did. He was a force of nature; she was just Ruth.

His eyes opened, and they were rather glazed. "Oh, there's my beautiful girl," he slurred wearily, high from the pain medicine. "I love you, you know – told all the doctors and nurses I don't deserve you. Not at all."

Ruth leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss. "You're a bit stoned," she commented wryly. "Best not talk too much, love."

"Ruth," he said very quietly, "Juliet… she's jealous. Of us. She wants what we have and she can't have it."

Ruth gently stroked his hair, avoiding the bruises on his head. "Hush now," she murmured. "I don't want to talk about her. Tell me about the op. Where did it go wrong?"

He looked up at her and shook his head. "Can't."

"Harry, I need to know –"

"It went wrong ten years ago," he said quietly. "My first assignment after you and I met." He looked away from her. "He would've killed us all if he'd gotten through you."

She kissed his forehead and whispered, "What makes you think he would've gotten through me?"

"You're not a field officer –"

"Maybe not," she said cautiously, "but I'm tired of being underestimated."

He looked at her for a long moment, and she could see him trying hard to focus. "Why do you think I put you on point?" he finally said. "A leap of faith and trust." His fingers curled around hers and he sighed. "I'm so bloody high right now – all I want to do is sleep."

"Then sleep," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

She wouldn't tell him that every day was a leap of faith for her.

END PART TWENTY-THREE


	24. Chapter 24

Twenty-four:  
Change of Address

Scarlett looked around her new surroundings with an air of indifference, then found a comfortable spot on the new sofa to shed upon. Of course, Harry was resting on the couch as well, hence the appeal. He was on week two of a six week enforced medical leave. Ruth hated leaving him, but Ginny was very capable of taking care of him, especially since they'd moved house.

They'd expanded into a rather large house, giving the girls separate rooms and there being space for an office for Harry and one for Ruth – as well as a room for Ginny and a spare bedroom, besides. It was enormous and Harry was very smug about having picked it out and it meeting everyone else's approval. Rose and Daisy in particular were happy to not be sharing a room anymore.

Ruth unpacked yet another carton of books, shooing Lily out of the way when she hopped onto the shelf that was intended for Ovid and Homer. "Stupid cat," she muttered.

Harry sighed. "You're working far too hard –"

"I want to finish before the girls get home from school," she said. "There's no point in disrupting them even more, is there?"

"Ruth, you don't have to spend every waking moment worrying about them," he said. "I promise. They're resilient little things, our girls: they bounce back very well indeed."

"They shouldn't have to bounce back," she said. "I always promised myself that my children would never have to deal with the problems I had. And yet, Gareth is dead and I only see them some nights and weekends and god, they probably think I've abandoned them."

"They don't," he said. "They understand that you and I do important jobs and that's why Ginny takes care of them."

She sighed. "I feel very guilty."

"You shouldn't," he said.

"If I don't, who will?" she shot back. She wanted to take the words back as soon as she said them, as soon as she saw the look on his face, in his eyes. Guilt, exhaustion, the dark spark of betrayal gone unchallenged all written across his face. "Harry, I didn't mean –"

"No, you're right," Harry said. "I don't feel guilty when I should."

"It wasn't meant to be a criticism of you," she said, slamming the last of the books onto the shelf, not caring anymore what order they were in. "It was an observation. I'm tired. Ignore me. How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "A bit bored, but –"

"Physically," she stipulated. "We did just move house in less than 12 hours."

"Thank god for the removal men," he sighed. "I'm… I'm all right. Shaky, a bit – I pulled my shoulder again."

She paused. "I suppose it will do me no good to tell you to stop doing that," Ruth said, irritated.

"You've been prickly all day," he grunted.

"Well, I've just been moved about and now I have to put things away," she said. "And I have so many things."

"Books," he corrected. "You have books."

"Books are things," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Books are very fine things, Harry."

"They are," he agreed.

"Don't sound so annoyed about it," she muttered.

"Ruth, love, why are you spoiling for a fight?" he asked. "I'm sorry we had to up and move house, but once a scene's security is compromised –"

"Rationally, I know that," Ruth said. "I do. But I hate it because I loved that stupid house. It was home, it was safe, it was where we went when everything fell apart. What am I supposed to feel, Harry, when suddenly I'm cast back into the world and forced to try to adapt to change again? I'm bad at the emotions, aren't I? God, why am I falling apart? It's just a bloody house."

Harry hauled himself up off the sofa and wrapped his arms around her. "It was _your_ bloody house," he said softly. "The first one you bought yourself, that you took care of yourself, that you thought you might live in forever. I'm sorry I've been dismissive about your feelings, but we needed to follow protocol. If it were just you and me, I'd say sod the buggers and upgrade the security; but we have to think about the girls, too. If anything happened to them, I'd lose my mind."

She chose not to take offense at the implication that he wouldn't lose his mind over something happening to her; he didn't mean it like that. Or at least, she didn't think he did. But it was enough to make her begin to doubt. She already doubted herself, her ability to keep him happy, to keep their lives running smoothly. She doubted like Thomas, the nagging words always playing in the back of her mind. She hated herself for not being able to let go of it all and pretend, even for a minute, that she wasn't doubting some aspect of them.

Some days, she wondered why he had chosen her; why he had fallen in love with her. If he had really fallen in love with her. What if all of this was just some elaborate show of guilt and she was the lead actress, playing her part and keeping him close when he was wanting so desperately to be elsewhere? Had she trapped him like so many women had before?

Ruth pushed him away and mumbled, "I'm sorry. You should be resting, not arguing with me."

"I don't want to argue with you," Harry said. "Not after you scared the daylights out of the removal men by shouting at them that they were putting our bed in the wrong place. You're a very intimidating woman, Ruth."

She snorted and held his hand. "You're a damn fool, Harry," she muttered. "I'm not intimidating. I'm a mouse."

"You're a tigress," he corrected gently. "The girls won't be home for a couple more hours. Let's go upstairs and –"

"Harry, you're not meant to over-exert yourself."

He winked at her. "Oh, believe me, I won't be doing that."

She rolled her eyes. Somehow, his offer of sex made her guilt complex that much worse. Yes, they were positively electric together; yes, he completed her in a way that scared and titillated her; yes, she loved him with all of her heart, her soul, her past, present, future… but did he really feel the same way? The doubt, the guilt, it just kept building inside her. One day, she'd forget to take her leap of faith and she was afraid she'd fall flat on her face.

"Ruth? You look a thousand miles away," he said softly.

She shook her head and said, "I'm just… I'm not in the mood, Harry. I'm stressed and tired and you've been aching all day since you pulled your shoulder."

"You've been tetchy –"

"Look, I went to the doctor last week and I got my test results and things," she muttered. "I'm trying to cope – and failing miserably."

"Test results? Ruth –"

"I'm just… I'm not young anymore," she said very quietly. "Things started to go off. It's just peri-menopause, it turns out. So hormone therapy and some other things. And the emotional side is very upsetting, too." She waved her hand between them. "I'm sorry. I can't." It was a dismissal – and she took the dismissal straight in hand and retreated to her office upstairs, locking the door behind her.

They'd been talking about trying for another baby. She'd had eggs frozen before her tubal ligation, in case they ever got to that point, and now… now they were looking at dismal chances and possibly a surrogate, if they even got that far. It was difficult. It was complicated. They were too complicated.

She heard him outside and ignored his feather-light tapping. "Ruth," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want to talk," she said, her voice high and tight.

"I know," he said, his voice low and soft.

"The girls will be home later and Ginny's off tonight," she reminded him. "I'll be down to make dinner."

"Ruth… it's not the end of the world if we don't have another child," he said, his gentle voice muffled by the door. "It is the end of the world if I lose you, though."

The guilt, the pain, everything was magnified ten-fold by his words. And, for a brief moment, she thought she might be able to hate him. For knowing her insecurities and playing them against her.

"I'll be down later," she promised. "I just… I need to – "

"I'll order something in," he said. "For dinner. Neither of us are okay to cook right now."

"No," she said quietly, "you should take the girls out."

There was silence for a long time, so long that she thought he might have left. But that wasn't the case, as he said, "I love you. The rest doesn't matter, Ruth."

But it did. In some measure, it always did.

* * *

_She refused the glass of wine and said, "I can't, Gareth."_

"_Why not? You were perfectly happy with that bottle of chianti the other night –" He jiggled the bottle and chuckled a bit when a bit sloshed out and splattered on the table._

"_Yes, well, the other night, I didn't know I was pregnant."_

_The wine bottle hit the table and she flinched at the noise of glass on solid wood. "Pregnant?" he echoed, as if the word was alien and distasteful all at once. "Are you taking the piss? Have you lost all your bloody senses, Ruth?"_

"_No," she said, her voice very small and quiet. "I didn't intend for it to happen. Believe me, Gareth. We even used protection. I don't know what happened, but it has happened and it can't be taken back now."_

"_Get an abortion." The words were cold, clinical, bitter. An order, not a request. _

_She bristled. "Absolutely not," Ruth hissed. "In case it had escaped your attention, it takes two to make a baby and I'm one of those two. I will not kill my own child just because you don't want to take on the responsibility of another man's child. Another man who is DEAD, by the way – not that it matters anymore. It wasn't anything important to him, nor to me. It was just sex." Her words echoed in the dining nook, sounding so much like his every time he brought a new man home. "In case you hadn't noticed, I am human. I have needs, too. You're not the only one who has to be close to other people, even if it's just physical."_

"_You are my wife," he said in a low, dangerous tone. "We have an arrangement."_

"_I know," she said very quietly. "Gareth, it was one time. It won't be happening again." _

"_How can you promise that?"_

"_Did you not hear me say he was dead?" she shot back angrily. "Even if I wanted to continue our affair, I literally can't." The anger was so cloying, so choking, that she actually thought it might force her to cry again. Again, as if her repeated sadness and outbursts weren't enough to begin with._

"_He came here, you know. After. Looking for you."_

_Her hand flew to her lips with the sudden shock, her stomach churning and roiling. "Oh god. Why didn't – why didn't you tell me?" Ruth whispered. "Gareth –"_

"_Because I was angry. I was so angry with you, Ruth – I still am."_

"_You cold-hearted bastard," she whispered. "What did you say to him?" The pain in her belly grew worse as her anxiety increased. "He obviously didn't stay for tea –"_

"_I told him I was your husband," Gareth snapped. "Which isn't a lie, though, god, Ruthie, I wish it was at the moment. How could you?"_

"_I've never met a person as selfish and self-centered as you," she exhaled, finally. "Not everything in life is about you, Gareth. You can't just – you can't expect everyone to follow your rules. It doesn't work that way. Things happen that no one is prepared for –"_

_He grabbed her wrist, almost painfully, and turned her hand to look at the diamond ring and the wedding band on her finger. "This makes you mine," Gareth said in a cold, dispassionate tone. "You had no right."_

"_No," she corrected gently, softly, "the rings and the agreement and the marriage do not make me yours. They make me your partner in all things, but I am no one's but my own. I choose where I give myself and my heart, Gareth, not you. And if I would love a dead man for the rest of my days rather than be miserable as your wife, so be it."_

"_You fell in LOVE with that tosser?" Gareth hissed, his hand clenching around her wrist._

"_So what if I did? It's not your place to tell me I'm wrong, considering how many men you've taken to bed," she murmured. "I'm not jealous that you have happiness; I just want a bit for myself, too. I'm not having an abortion. And as my partner in all things, you just have to live with the knowledge that I'm only human, Gareth."_

_His words and tone when next he spoke were cold and hard. "Your child will have my name," he said. "But it won't be mine. I will support it, I will care for it like you want me to, but it will never be my blood and I will never love it like I love Rosie."_

"_I understand," she said softly. "But he or she will know you as their father –"_

"_I will be their father because we are partners in all things," he said with that flat, emotionless tone. "And I will never touch you again, Ruth. Not after this. The only reason I won't divorce you is because you'll take my daughter from me, and our children… that's what all of this was for, remember? Safety in numbers, a family –"_

"_Then please," she whispered, "don't push me away now. I'm giving you what you want, albeit in a way you can't stand, but please, Gareth –"_

"_Did you love him?"_

_She couldn't be honest with him, and some secrets needed to be held back forever. "No," Ruth said almost inaudibly. "It was just sex."_

* * *

When she left her office, she heard giggling from downstairs, and then Harry's loud guffaw of disbelief. "Since when do you know how to do that?" he asked loudly through the laugh.

"Since I dunno," Rose replied, still giggling. "Dad, this curry is really good. Thank you for making me try a new one."

"You're welcome," Harry replied.

Ruth rounded the corner into the kitchen and paused. "Did you start without me?" she asked softly.

"Mummy!" Daisy cried, getting up and running over to hug her. "Daddy said you had a bad day and were really sad, so we got you really spicy lamb tikka because it's your favorite. And I'm sorry you're sad. Are you still sad?"

"Only a little," Ruth murmured, hugging her daughter with all of her strength. "I love you, Margaret – you know that, right?"

Daisy nodded and crushed her face into her mother's belly. She was going to be petite, Ruth decided, and she was okay with that. A smaller version of Harry's force of nature. "I know, mummy," the little girl whispered. "I love you, too."

"Now," Ruth murmured, releasing her, "go eat your supper, love." She looked over at Harry and said, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He swallowed the bite he had in his mouth, then rose and followed her out to the sitting room. She reached for his hand and they settled onto the sofa.

"I'm sorry I –" Harry began, but she cut him off.

"It wasn't you," she murmured. "It was all me, Harry. How's your shoulder now?"

"Sore, but I'll live. How are you?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm… okay," she said. For lack of a better word, okay would have to do. "I didn't mean to just go off and lose it back there. You must think I'm thick as."

"Never," Harry said, squeezing her hand. "You're stubborn as, but never thick."

She sighed and tried to find the words she needed, but they were elusive. "I just… I'm scared of disappointing you. And you want another child so badly."

"Ruth, it's not a dealbreaker," he said quietly. "It never was. I just wanted you. I know the surgery was to prevent you being in a constant state of pregnancy because I can't keep my hands off you. I know there are risks to attempting to do what we were so eager to prevent. And I know neither of us are getting any younger, which means problems in and of itself. I'm selfish and I'm sorry. I should never have brought it up, should never have asked you to think about it."

"Peri-menopause isn't a dealbreaker," she said softly. "It just means everything will be more difficult if we do manage to get things together. So… we should try sooner rather than later."

"Ruth?"

She looked down at their hands and felt so safe, so loved… she felt like life wasn't just for someone else to live, now. "He made me feel so ashamed of myself," she whispered. "Ashamed of loving you so much after such a short time. Of giving myself so completely to you that I would have your child and fight for that right. I always loved you and Daisy is the part of me that held onto that so tightly I thought I might die, Harry." Ruth paused and inhaled deeply, willing her voice to stop shaking. "I want us to have another child together. But I need you to want it as much as I do, or this isn't going to work. It might not work at all. There's going to be trips to the doctor, and injections, and implantation, and… and it might not work."

"I want you to be happy," he said very softly. "You're always so… sad."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't mean to be."

He kissed her and murmured, "I love you. More than I can ever find the words to say, Ruth, I love you. Whatever you decide, I will stand beside you."

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For…?"

"For not being Harry of the Grid right now. Taking on every problem like it's just a hill to be climbed."

"This isn't a hill," he said gently. "This is a vertical sloped mountain. We have to find a foothold and then make a plan of attack and then just… do it. And maybe we won't make it. But that's okay – because we tried."

She leaned against him and sighed. "I think we took the metaphor a bit far."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "So, yeah, lamb tikka," he said, changing the subject. "And then we should finish putting away the books – as a family."

Nothing in the world sounded better to her.

END PART TWENTY-FOUR


	25. Chapter 25

Twenty-five:  
Living in Limbo

A year changed everything.

From Angela Wells plotting to destroy everything to Rose breaking her arm to Daisy getting taller and calming down a bit, life had been chaotic. Work was an ever-changing landscape of good and evil, and Ruth was tired of fighting the good fight. Home was an ever-changing dynamic with the girls getting older and their personalities becoming more and more distinct. Colleagues came and went, and Ruth mourned more than she'd ever thought possible.

Harry had been suspended and had gone to live in a safehouse for that time. She had missed him more in that week than she had in their years apart.

They'd been trying, trying so hard for a baby, and it seemed at one point like it was going to happen – only for disappointment to set in. The emotional roller coaster never stopped and never seemed to slow down for them.

And now…

Now Cotterdam and Mik Maudsley and Oliver Mace – god, how she hated him.

And at the very heart of everything was Harry and her absolute, undying, unyielding love for him.

She sat in the frigid air beside Zaf, taking minimal shelter against the worst of the wind against the river wall. "I'm so sorry I dragged you into this," Ruth whispered. "I am. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"We never mean for anything bad to happen," Zaf assured her quietly.

"Harry needs to be there," she said. "He needs to stand on the wall – I'm not strong enough. None of the rest of us are strong enough without him there."

"Ruth –"

She smiled sadly and said, "At Havensworth, we had separate rooms because we needed to keep to work. And I've never… I've never felt so alone, Zaf. Not till now. Because now I know I might never see him again and it hurts worse than anything."

He reached round her back and held her, gently, like a dear friend would. "We will prove you innocent," Zaf promised in a voice without guile or pretence. "And then you'll have Harry again. You'll be able to come home."

Ruth looked over at him and murmured, "Is it… is it so terrible that I'm not worried about Rose and Daisy because I know he'll be the father they need when I'm gone?"

"No," Zaf whispered. "Not at all."

She swallowed hard and exhaled, trying not to cry again. Her emotions were all over the place, and she was living on adrenaline like a junkie needing a fix. And soon, that would be all that was left to keep her alive. Adrenaline.

"How much longer?" she whispered.

"Just a few more hours."

* * *

She wanted to be angry with him; she wanted to be furious. But all that happened was she felt so relieved when Harry walked down the dock toward her. "I told Adam not to tell you," Ruth said, smiling a little in spite of herself.

"I told him I would sack him if he didn't," Harry said, moving in and drawing her close, warming her up instantly. "Ruth –"

She shook her head and hugged him tight. "No," she whispered. "Don't make it any harder, Harry. Please. Just… just take care of them. Our girls. Make sure they know that I love them so very much and all I want is to be there with them. Make sure they understand that I would never leave them unless it was by force. Okay? Please?"

He inhaled, then exhaled shakily, barely finding voice for his next words. "I will," he promised. "I will be the father I couldn't be for Catherine and Graham."

She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. "I love you, Henry James Pearce," she said very gravely. "And I need you to be brave and stand on that wall for the both of us."

"How am I meant to live without you?" he asked.

She thought she'd run out of tears to cry, but the terrified, wildly vulnerable look in his eyes scarred her very soul. Ruth smiled just a little, and murmured, "You did it before you met me, and you did it for so long after… after that weekend. I think you'll find it easier than you'll admit."

"Come on!" the ferryman shouted.

"I'm coming!" she replied, stroking the contours of his face, his cheeks, committing them to her memory in every way she could. She would never forget the smell of his cologne or his soap; she would never forget the way that he touched her, the way that they fit together; she would never forget the scar on his eyebrow that she focused on when he had her in the throes of intense passion. She would never forget the burning desire of his eyes.

She would never forget him. Never.

Ruth leaned in and kissed him, once, twice, three times, each more intense and desperate than the last. And then she pulled away and whispered, "Harry – I'm never taking off our rings. And I will never break our vows. I love you."

She stepped away, and he said, very softly, "Ruth, if there was any other way –"

"No more 'what ifs'," she said. "This is it; our reality, as cruel as it is. But I'll be waiting for you, when you come for me to tell me my exile is over." Their fingers danced, tangling together one last time, and then she pulled away and turned her back on him.

If she didn't look back over her shoulder, she could stay strong. If she didn't look at her husband, the man she had sacrificed everything for, she could be strong enough to do what she needed to do to stay alive.

And then the boat pulled away from the dock and her resolve wavered. She looked back, and Harry looked so small, so tired, so defeated.

So alone.

Her heart shuddered, lurched, and she felt his pain as keenly as if she'd inflicted it all upon herself as well. And she had, really.

The shock of everything was finally settling in.

And she knew that there was no coming back from this.

il est terminé  
(it is finished)


End file.
